I tried to write a sonnet for Renee

One poet to another, mournful verse

But dry, my ink: no rhyming words that day

The muse had died, effecting Writer’s Curse

Dismayed, I hoped expanding sentiment

To Minnesotan folk, to all the world

Might let me have my say, to represent

My hatred of the hatred that’s unfurled

But, verbalising hath no ’fect at all:

—Expression of tormented lyricists—

No, fuck this rhythmic anger; stanzas stall:

Does meter matter while the hate persists?

…I had not finished rhyming for Renee

When Alex gave his life to disobey.