by Eddie Aderne

“Vladimir Nabokov’s Superman poem published for the first time
In ‘The Man of To-morrow’s Lament’, rejected by the New Yorker in 1942, the Lolita author imagines
the superhero mourning his inability to have children with Lois Lane'”
—The Guardian

O Lois, O Lois, O light of my loins!
Alas, I’m compiled with such obvious joins
(Aside from my habit, which scarcely invites,
Of wearing my underwear over my tights)
That you, my sweet sin, may not find me your type;
Besides, to be frank, you’re a touch overripe;
But though we may neither conceive nor beget,
I nonetheless swear, my archaic nymphet,
I’d fly, for your sake, the extraneous mile!
You can count on your Clark for a fancy verse style.