The Borough

by Angela Alaimo O’Donnell

April Fools’ Sonnet

April 1st

“What fools these mortals be!”—
Shakespeare, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

And he is right, though it’s not clear why.
Because we fall in love and think
All Will Be Well. Because we lie,
swear we’re made of truth, and wink.
Because we laugh & talk too much.
Because we love to eat & drink.
Because we lack the magic touch
to heal the harm we do to others.
Because we become fathers & mothers
and clutch our children desperately.
Because we’re too short-sighted to see
that all will end in disaster,
that life & death can’t be mastered.
Because heaven isn’t true.
Because we’re mortal, me & you.

Saint’s Body

First it must be kept
in parts or wholly,
the heart high-prized in the marketplace,
nail clippings, the blue finger
still wearing its knuckle ring.

Then set it out for adoration
encased in ice or frozen stone,
like soft Snow White laid out by seven lovers
awaiting the imprint
of the Prince’s kiss.

Approach on ragged knees
along the gritty ground.
Blood will flow in sympathy with blood,
new wounds paying
homage to the old.

Touch your hot forehead
against the cool tomb,
lips pressed to the Christ-iron cross,
rosary binding your hands, you stand,
St. Joan amid the blazing branches.

O Eye of every martyr,
bared breast of St. Sebastian,
sleek skin of Bartholomew who did not scream,
how our bodies love your holy bodies,
how we punish them with joy that is not ours.

Angela Alaimo O’Donnell is a professor and poet at Fordham University in New York City and the author of 12 poetry collections, most recently The View from Childhood: New & Selected Poems (Paraclete 2026).