More: [Poem]: Dante

Dante took me on a date

after getting to know me well

and I found myself before a gate

that would take me straight to hell.

I managed to say, “Dante

why did you bring me here?

Tell me, without delay!”

I stopped, frozen by fear.

(I’m not going in there! No way!)

With a thick accent, he

started with a smile,

“Don’t you like to see

the difference in style?”

While scratching my head,

I thought what he could mean,

then stared way up ahead

and hoped we weren’t seen.

“I’m not following you,

and I really hate that smell.

Tell me and tell me true—

why bring me to hell?”

“You had a date with John Keats

that left you always trying

to understand the sonnet beats;

then you tried Lord Byron—”

“What are you implying?!”

“Then you found Ignoracium,

which prompted your sister to say,

‘The Divine Comedy is awesome!’

so you started after me that day.

“I just thought you’d like to see

my mind, the fabrics fine and well.

These gates, they’re a part of me—

welcome, my dear, to hell.

“Come, Holly, let’s disappear

to a place I’ve taken many others.

Away, away from Shakespeare

and all of his idyllic lovers.”

I shrugged and managed, “Okay.”

The gates creaked open slowly

and, shuddering, I followed Dante,

wondering if hell knew about WD-40.