A Poem by Austin Allen

High-Octane Blockbuster Sonnet With an Ending You Won’t Forget

The ninja swinging from the chandelier
assassinates the Admiral. Three white-knuckling
drivers receive the briefing, nod, and veer
on alpine roads, while squadrons of swashbuckling
space-pirates charge their lasers and converge
above our all-too-quiet landscape. Lakes
collect the falling wreckage, burn, and surge.
Three cars explode. The ninja’s water breaks.

Mayors cry, Hold your loved ones. Pray for peace
as one explosion brings a rockslide down,
shaking the villa where the Admiral’s niece
swears vengeance in her bloodstained wedding gown.
Hailstones and flocks of birds begin to fall.
But you don’t hold me. You don’t even call.

Austin Allen's debut poetry collection, Pleasures of the Game (Waywiser Press), was awarded the Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize. His poetry has appeared in The Yale Review, The Missouri Review, The Sewanee Review, The Hopkins Review, and 32 Poems. He has taught creative writing at the University of Cincinnati and Johns Hopkins University.