I just wanted to post the original poem: Heat by Denis Johnson for you to see too. It's in sonnet form, which means a poem of 14 lines, usually in iambic pentameter, which means 10 syllable lines. This sonnet is not in iambic pentameter and neither is the poem I wrote using the end-words of Heat.
Here in the electric dusk your naked lover
tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth.
It's beautiful Susan, her hair sticky with gin,
Our Lady of Wet Glass-Rings on the Album Cover,
streaming with hatred in the heat
as the record falls and the snake-band chords begin
to break like terrible news from the Rolling Stones,
and such a last light—full of spheres and zones.
August,
you're just an erotic hallucination,
just so much feverishly produced kazoo music,
are you serious?—this large oven impersonating night,
this exhaustion mutilated to resemble passion,
the bogus moon of tenderness and magic
you hold out to each prisoner like a cup of light?
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