Good Boy Villanelle

Writing myself into a corner.

I’m showing my true colors now.
What a good boy am I, Jack Horner!

Knowing I ain’t no foreigner
to love—I’ve got notches on my prow
from poaching pigeons in my corner.

You, Love, are the glorious ripener—
I want to marry you right now!
Will you marry Little Jack Horner?

Don’t tread on me! said your flag—a warner,
and there’s a black snake on it, lying low,
hissing me back into my corner.

Now I’m all shaven and shorn, or
else I’m the boy who went out to mow
and pulled out a plum—Jack Horner!

and finally sank into the verdure,
black snake dealing my death blow.
Writing myself into a corner.
What a good boy am I, Jack Horner!