Poetry: Sonnet IV (Amphetamines)

By: Corrine Mina


IV. Amphetamines

Robotic bunnies pink with drumheads can’t
compete with the metronome in my rib
cage, pulsing haphazard Baroque monk chants
without meter, speeding up at its lib-
arty. Thirteen hours it will remain
focused, flailing on schedule and forcing
two barely shut eyes see details again.
The bead bandits will need no coercing,
for paradox, in science, creates an
inverse proportion; my tonsils tickle
while smooth criminals slowly awaken
hidden personas that Hide and Jeckyl.

Rimshots in my ears now, that damn bunny
makes for sure I write my epiphany.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s