My Own Private Ulysses: Bloom’s Three-Body Problem

First is queen Molly, Bloom’s wandering wife,

Her mind’s a river of run-on phrases,            

More like a gutter, with smut her head’s rife.        

Her thirst has lit his world up in blazes.            

And the princess of the seaside striptease,           

Gerty shines outside, not some boom-boom room.        

And when it comes to that seminal sneeze,             

Her gravity pulls it out of old Bloom.                

And Martha, whom Bloom keeps under his hat,           

He’s hounded by her cool haughtiness.                 

Oh, his gentle lady’s a real wildcat,                 

Who purrs to punish his hot naughtiness.              

Bloom spirals chaotic between three stars.            

He’d have more luck with green women from mars.

Stay tuned for more celestial sonnets.

Same starry time, same spinning channel.