A Villanelle

Definitely a work in progress:


"Collision"

I’m wiping my ass, reading poetry.
I think Billy Collins would like it that way.
Each hand grips a piece of history.

I grasp the remnants of two trees.
Would the great oak gasp if I say
I’m wiping my ass, reading poetry?

They grew the oak to clean debris.
The swishing pine became wordplay.
Each hand grips a piece of history.

The trees both came from Tennessee
to find me here today,
where I’m wiping my ass, reading poetry.

My hands are unsteady
The verse dips and sways.
Each hand grips a piece of history.

I want the oak to guarantee
the frail pine won’t slip away.
I’m wiping my ass, reading poetry.
Each hand grips a piece of history.