my green fairy i’m not ophelia/ i will stay an old maid it’s useless to place lady’s bedstraw flowers under my pillow because whatever i would dream of…it won’t be him/ it won’t be my dear beloved country man/ my lord with entangled beard staring at the summer stars like a charmed beast…
what can i say?
the wheat is still tender i can feel its juicy inside between my teeth
women are still beautiful to me that mean i am still
younger than that barren apple tree
it was a golden apple forbidden to be tasted
it was guarded by an army of ruby cross spiders so scary
for a little girl like me
oh my dear hamlet these are only stories/ even you were dead a long time ago and i/ who am i to know what murky waters will bear my crown above them?