Sonnet no. Razr

Aaron Ricciardi

Excerpts from FAN: Forever Aaron and Nichole, a crown of sonnets

The guy would never know, but I’m a wreck

when spooning, since my arm has to be tucked

beneath his pillow. Suddenly I’m sucked

back home—fifteen, sixteen—when mom would check

to see if we—my teacher and her boy—

were cooing on our phones too late at night

again when I should be asleep. We’d fight

if I got caught, so I devised this ploy:

I’d hide my Razr like you do a tooth,

and play-act like my dad face-down in bed.

My tired mom would creep in, then she’d feel

beneath the down and case, and find the truth.

“Hang up with her!” and then she’d kiss my head,

with lips the very opposite of steel.