Bonjour Mlle Duras--
   after dinner last night
   we played parlor games.
One day soon we should
   dance in the ballroom.
I'll keep proper posture as
   we spin-- you can whisper
      about the malady
   of death (in the dim
      candle light).
How do you feel about
   the Catholic Church
   burning people alive?
Does it help you
   realize the reality
   of love?

[The woman gazes into the
   lookingglassmirrorreflector
and begins to realize that
   she can't see
      herself]

Bonjour M. Pinget!
   Remember when we
existed in the fables
   of those photographs?
We felt, while we lived,
Les Plaisirs de la Forêt.
   But don't worry,
   the SILENCE of
         God
will allow our prostates'
   forgiveness. Plus, we
planted our seed, so
      it's not like we were
   ignoring the act of
            creation.

[The man walks up behind
   that woman, now LOOKING
      at the
MIRRORLOOKINGGLASSREFLECTOR
      and brushes
   her hair behind her ears.
He whispers--]

Bonjour Mme Robbe-Grillet--
   Mme de Berg if you prefer--
   I followed you last night
while you went on your journey.
   You walked next to the train,
and I heard the sounds of
      steam--
despite the lack of movement.
   But in THAT room, your dress
demoralizes. The man’s prick is
   hard, but for you it's like
 not
      even
        there.
So bless this house
   and spill the blood,
   blindfold's on 
   (it's already begun).

Tonight,
   I'll take a photograph.

[Eliot was a liar,
the world doesn't end
with a whimper, it ends
with the click
of a shutter.]