Queen Gertrude Poem by David McLansky

Queen Gertrude


Is it crass of me to say
That a woman has her needs
As she walks she gently sways
But her lust is not appeased;

How often I’d sat upon his bed
Waiting for a sign
But his appetites were cold and dead;
But I was not resigned;

With all the antics of the court,
The flirting and carousing,
Why was my carnal reign so short
Why was he past arousing.

I tried all the wanton bedtime tricks
Red hose and belts and garters,
Like a tinker I showed my wares
But he could not be bothered;

I had done my duty giving him a son
An heir that was a jewel;
After that he thought his jousting done
He gave me a widow’s tool;

Each night he came to our cold bed
Drunken eyes employed;
Angry at my woman’s tricks
Foul mouthed and frank annoyed;

I often think of his dead Fool,
Who fathered his great son,
The product of a desparate tryst,
Yorick was such fun;

But a Lady caught him serving me
Behind a bedpost curtain;
And protective of His legacy,
Yorick’s end was certain;

They said he fell from a high wall
While dancing antic tricks
He leapt and fell a hundred feet
And missed a stuffed hayrick;

I saw a King could kill a fool
Who crowned him with worn horns;
But a brother could not be so disposed of
With a gentle well-timed shove;

So I gaily laughed and danced and played
Giving kin my ungloved hand,
Who kissed the sweat from heated palms,
And hinted of later charms.

This iceberg king of snow bound lands
Came drunken to my bed
He reminded me he was king and man
He must have drunk a keg.

He squeezed my breasts and mounted me
With a feeble, disjointed member,
But the fires that burned so long ago
Were now ashes and grey embers.

He rolled away and bid his fool
To entertain the Queen,
He pulled the drapes down on my head,
And choked me till I screamed.

The servants saved me from sure death
As he grabbed me by the throat
I gasped and struggled for each breath
As I hammered at his coat.

At last I threw him off of me
He was wheezing, out of breath,
He stumbled to an anteroom
And collapsed upon a chest.

That day he called me, “harlot, whore, ”
And railed against my son;
He beat him till his arms were sore
And Hamlet learned to run.

To protect my son I plotted with
The King’s ambitious brother
To whom I gave full warrantee,
And became his secret lover.

Claudius poured a lethal brew
Into his brother’s ear
Was the poison false or true
I waited with mounting fear;

How I mourned, with what solemnity
I in my widow’s gowns,
How I bucked and carried him,
How he longed to wear the crown.


I married him within a month
It was a scandal to the court;
The funeral feast became a wedding feast;
My mourning proved so short.

How happy is fair Elsinore
The King and Queen are wed
The radiance from their marriage bed
Is joyously wide spread….