Curse of the Bandersnatch's Wife

with apologies to Lewis Carroll

She gired mimsy youth with him
and others of his frumious ilk,
like Brillig and the slithy toves,
the ill-beholden Prince of Silk.

Despite the joys of frabjous love,
and uffish evenings spent in thrall,
she can't be sure where Bander is,
nor even when he'll come to call!

On tulgey nights the Jabberwock
runs chortling in the forest prime,
galumphing past the sith and sledge
beneath a moon of blevous lime.

One, two. One, two. Sleep has fled
--whenever Jabber burbles nigh!
She counts the gimbled stars by pairs,
outgrabes her reach of beamish sky.

She jubs the gate, lums the lights,
alone with vorpal sword she waits.
With eyes aflame, jaws that crack,
the Jabberwock calloohs her fate.

And so a manxome life she leads,
gloomed in asperants and bleers.
Even Bander's snick-snack songs
can never reliquate her tears!

She gired mimsy youth with him
and others of his frumious kind,
like Brillig and the slithy toves,
the ill-bespoken Prince of Wine.

Apppeared in Asimov's SF Magazine