A Discussion on Poetry
The afternoon customers were beginning to hit the Talon. Lana Lang, manager and owner, loved this time of day. She enjoyed working night shifts and morning shifts—it was never hard for her to be at the Talon—but early afternoon shifts were her favorite. People trickling in after school to read, do homework, hang out with friends; no one in much of a hurry for anything, including their orders (although she still strove to provide them with the greatest possible speed). She had time to watch her customers, to soak in the fact that they were her customers.
Well, mostly hers.
Lex Luthor, financial backer and mostly-silent partner, sauntered up to the counter, hands in his pockets. It was a pose that either meant "casual, semi-business visit" or "seriously big trouble."
He's as good at keeping secrets as Clark is. And Lana immediately wondered where that thought came from.
"I heard you've discovered the identity of your secret admirer," he said. Lex rarely opened a conversation with the standard pleasantries.
Lana nodded, glad that this visit seemed to fall under the more casual and less sinister motive. She opened her mouth to tell him about Byron, but she hesitated. The last time this had come up, the conversation had turned—bizarre. Lex had started quoting poetry…and he hadn't been as quick to bring up Clark as the One True Person for Lana as he usually was. Actually, he hadn't brought it up at all. It had been—well, bizarre. She wasn't anxious to repeat it. Except….
"I've been thinking about what you said…about poetry," said Lana. "I think your thesis is flawed."
"Really?" Lex said, grinning. It was the grin that always made Lana felt like he was just humoring her—"look, the little girl has an opinion!" She could feel her own expression freezing into a mask of politeness. "In what way?" Lex continued.
"The poem you quoted," she said, consulting an order slip and picking up a mug. "It's one of John Donne's Holy Sonnets."
"And?"
"And the Holy Sonnets are addressed to God. And John Donne can hardly be attempting to seduce God."
Lex shrugged. "I suppose that would be a problem if you believe there is some inherent meaning in the text."
Lana turned from the coffee machine, forehead crinkled in confusion. "But words can't mean whatever you want them to mean," she said, setting the full mug on a tray on the counter. "A text can't be reinterpreted to fit your notions of it, even if…."
"Humpty Dumpty would disagree," countered Lex. "He said that words meant exactly what he wanted them to mean, nothing more nor less."
"Because he had enough power and money to make them mean what he wanted them to mean," said Lana, adding a muffin to the tray. "I always thought Humpty Dumpty came off looking a little silly."
"Only to Alice," said Lex lightly.
"But even in ordinary love poetry," said Lana, returning to her original point despite Lex's obvious efforts to derail the discussion, "there's more to it than just…." She hesitated as she caught his eye, and she was mortified to realize that a slight blush was rising to her face.
"Seduction?" Lex filled in, and Lana felt a shiver of something she couldn't name run down her spine. Suddenly she felt cold.
"Right," she said shortly, picking up the tray and moving off to carry the order to the corner table.
"What else could there be?" Lex called after her in his half-mocking way.
She stopped and turned towards him, an expression of frank incredulity in her eyes. "Love," she said simply.
And she moved on, leaving him standing at the counter alone.
Holy Sonnet XIV: Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God
John Donne
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labor to admit you, but O, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
but is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor even chaste, except you ravish me.