Ice Cream Sonnet

You have some ice cream on your nose I say

to my small boy in Spiderman costume.

He’s dropped the cone outside the monkey cage,

but his hands, sticky with chocolate perfume,

are reaching up with a finger held high,

pointing to the van, asking for another.

A bonobo child has come close to pry,

chin resting on the bars when his mother

reaches out a long arm and skillful hand

to scoop up what remains from the hot ground

before it melts into brown rivers and

rolls away. Her child makes a jovial sound.

We watch as the monkey child chomps it down.

My boy protests. I say you keep what you found.

***

Inspired by Shakespearean sonnets, written in iambic pentameter but with the odd line of 11 syllables.