Challenge from a friend: a ten-line poem in which all lines rhyme with “doughnut,” and featuring the numbers one through ten in each line.
“I’ve won,” says Arlo, “it’s so; but
You’ve triumphed too. You low slut,
Mrs. Guthrie, years ago, cut
Short my hopes for us.” “Know what?”
Says his wife. “I’ve shown guts,
That’s the basics. So no ifs, no buts—
It’s even.” Outside their snow hut,
A figure recedes; the gate blows shut.
A man, with strychnine: no pro, but
Arlo’s eaten his last doughnut.