Poets are all soldiers in love's army.
So here's Ovid and his laptop ogling
selfies snapped by sylphs who are
glamorous, witty, sophisticated yet humble
and only looking to have fun
- evidently no Eurydices.

They in turn sift the detritus of men
dour, unkempt, fat and haggard
with the spines of pool noodles.

While he is on a weekly Odyssey
reading profiles and headlines,
seeking a passion that escapes the palace of longing.