“By the time Valmont has succeeded in seducing Madame de Tourvel, it is suggested that he might have fallen in love with her.”

But I am Baudelaire, I have to learn everything
in a language of hiccups. I place Alan Rickman
in the role of the Vicomte de Valmont, I become the Wicked Witch
and poison the applewhite maiden.

Sometimes becomes an allegory
and mocks Possibly. All of us are Uncertain, the train
of our white dress doesn’t know
if it’s party to a wedding or a beheading. A remainder of one
is lonely, but let’s not think so
cloistered. What wild world we’ve whipped
when wed!— Would what whirls
we wave wound? Farm me
like wild chard.