Villanelle

They toiled all the night.
They did what they could do.
Your smile isn’t right.

Beneath the panicked light
you seemed red white and blue.
They toiled all the night

Eventually you’ll bite
just fine, they say, and chew.
Your smile isn’t right.

There is a strange delight
in forming someone new.
They toiled all the night.

You say, a detail’s trite
I say, they fudged a few:
Your smile isn’t right.

Almost, but not quite,
what did they put askew?
They toiled all the night,
but your smile isn’t right.

2012