While She Picks Forget-Me-Nots Poem by gershon hepner

While she picks forget-me-nots we weep,
and yet she is the author of her own
destruction, having said that she would sleep
no more with Hamlet. While she slept alone
she should have realized she’d been misled
by both her father and her brother. She will drown
because she had excluded from her bed
the only man within her rotten town
who could have made her happy. Measure for
unhappy measure, she made him so troubled
that that when closed on him her bedroom door,
their troubles, by becoming single, doubled.

Written after collecting my Shakespeare poems, and rewriting “Ophelia’s Death, ” whose last two lines are:

but we recall the paths called by Polonius
primrose, while she picks forget-me-nots.

1/19/10