I found this poem by Sarah Alcaide-Escue in the second issue of Channel Magazine. I've been studying villanelle form - I enjoy the rhyme scheme.

This poem forces me to stop and slow down. In the second line I wrangle with the repeated 'r' sounds - growth, ringed, wrists - almost as if the w of with threatens to trip me up. I have to proceed carefully. There's a lot in each line in terms of sound and in meaning, it's definitely a poem to linger over. 

There's some lovely not quite rhymes in here too: wrists / resist; antilogy / apologies. You can find the text of the poem by buying a copy of Channel, issue 2 https://channelmag.org/