‘Oh Lord, Oh Laird,’ says Abelard, ‘I moaned that life was hard,
but bugger me, an eternity of death’s harder. Take my word.
Here Heloise makes Hades freeze, or is that vice versa?
The moving mouse writhes and leaps on, disturbing Death’s own cursor,
while blue screens scream for temp perdu and madeleines stay stale,
and Jonah never gets chucked up by Charlemagne the Whale.
The couplets come, the couplets go. We, the couple, never couple.
We, Heloise and Abelard, have thirst but find no tuple,
no list of ordered elements, and fewer ordered pairs,
nor tipples (I could half use one). We also want for chairs.
We can’t be here, we both agree. Richard Dawkins said it well,
But, wherever this place is or ain’t, it surely looks like hell.
It’s not as bad, because it’s worse, than Hades usually seems
in books that midnights give me screaming meemies from their memes.’