From the Pentagon

by Jehanne Dubrow

He brings me chocolate from the Pentagon,
dark chocolates shaped like tanks and fighter jets,
milk chocolate tomahawks, a bonbon
like a kirsch grenade, mint chocolate bayonets.
He brings me chocolate ships, a submarine
descending in a chocolate sea, a drone
unmanned and filled with hazelnut praline.
He brings me cocoa powder, like chocolate blown
to bits. Or chocolate squares of pepper heat.
Or if perhaps we’ve fought, he brings a box
of truffles home, missiles of semisweet
dissolving on the tongue. He brings me Glocks
and chocolate mines, a tiny transport plane,
a bomb that looks delicious in its cellophane.

[via American Life in Poetry]

This Post Has 1 Comment

  1. I cannot express how awed I am at this poem. By the time I reached the final two lines, I noticed the rhyme of plane/cellophane. And then I looked back at the previous lines… and marveled at how expertly Dubrow slid in those rhymes to compose this amazing sonnet.

    I’m reminded a lot of Craig Arnold’s poem “Hot,” and how much talent it takes to write a poem that masks its rhymes so.

    The visuals in Dubrow’s poem work to divert the reader’s eyes, conjuring up images of miniature chocolate weapons. Phrases like “chocolate blown / to bits” are powerful in its own right, and just propel you along the poem – image after image. By the time you look up, you’re at the end.

    I didn’t even notice the rhyme scheme until I finished the poem. This wasn’t just a good sonnet – this was a phenomenal poem that was so good, you barely noticed the fact that it also happened to be a sonnet.

    avoision Reply


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