The Incredible Ubiquitous Sestina
“Our first poetry forum of the season
is scheduled for Tuesday. The guest
is Dan Nester, editor of The Incredible
Sestina Anthology, and the program
will be devoted to this exotic and appealing
form, the sestina. Please come.”
Did you know a sestina can make you come?
It’s true. Try one of mine. The silly season
is upon us; over there, that appealing
blonde woman looks like a hot guest
on “My Favorite Dames,” a program
I always turn on after watching The Incredible
Mr. Limpet, with Don Knotts. He’s incredible
himself: Sheriff Andy always waiting for him to come
around? I could see him trying to program
a computer, if the series had lasted, oh, forty seasons
longer. They say a TV show is like a guest:
the longer it hangs around the less appealing
are the same traits you used to find so appealing
in its heyday. Floyd the Barber was incredible,
too, but in reruns he looks like an unwanted guest.
Forget about waiting for your turn to come—
get a better head job down the street! Like seasons
of shows, we come and go; it’s God’s program.
(Or Boy George’s? I never got with any program,
so what do I know?) I’m appealing
to you, Reader! I’m an old vet—season-
ed, ripe. Overripe. Have you seen The Incredibles?
Funnier than Limpet. You’re incredulous—“Oh come
on!”—but it’s true! Aarrgh. Back on topic: The Guest;
Or, The Sestina. A sestina can be an unwanted guest,
too—it drops out of its step program,
knowing it can always come
over to your house—drunk, high, appealing
to your better nature. “You’re incredible,”
you grumble crossly. “There is a season …”
it comes out with, trying to be appealing. “Just incredible!
… Ma!” Your mother’s watching her programs—
Breaking Bad, fifth season. “Ma, an unwonted guest!”
-- James Cummins