Hahaha.
A Tale of Love and Death (Or the Lessons of Literature)
Montaigne mentions a girl
who threw herself from a high
window, preferring to die
than yield herself to that churl
Whom fate had billeted there.
When the fall did not end her life,
she cut her throat with a knife,
but survived that, too. O rare
and virtuous maiden! Or so
one might think. But the inquiry found
there had hardly been adeqaute ground
for such drastic behavior. No,
the soldier never attacked her,
but merely sent verses and flowers,
sang songs, and mooned for hours-
which could only confuse and distract her.
One would think she’d have gone along,
for men in the taverns would say
she was fun and an easy lay.
And that’s where the young man went wrong,
letting her know what a treasure
he though she was and had.
This confused her and made her feel bad
rather than giving her pleasure.
Her whole life till then, she knew,
had been a miscalculation.
Far better than fornication
is having a young man woo,
lovesick, desperate, and cute.
How to respond to such stuff?
To fuck him wasn’t enough!
What she could think of to suit
his ardor was thus to behave.
Perhaps he might kill himself, too.
It would be the sweet thing to do.
And he’d carry her face to his grave!
Written by: David R. Slavitt
