Imagine my surprise,
When I looked into her eyes,
& she stabbed me in the back
With a shiv.
I fell onto the floor,
Shaken deeply to my core,
Yelping, “Julie, don’t you know,
I might not live!”
She kicked me in the head,
Hoping that I might be dead,
Gently whispering with a voice
Chilled as ice:
“I’ve met another boy,
A handsome youth named Troy.
He’s very rich, has a horse
& treats me nice.”
“Juliet,” I sadly sighed.
“I’ll hurry up & die,
All I ask for is the gift
Of one last favor.
“Whip me up a little brew,
Something old & something new;
Eyes of newt, a touch of bat,
With dark roast flavor.”
Julie neatly mixed it up,
Put it in a china cup,
Brooding: “What might satisfy
This dead man’s thirst?”
I saw her jealousy:
“Why give him, what’s good for me?”
So humbly I deferred:
“Dear, drink it first.”
Imagine her surprise,
When she looked into my eyes;
One last twinkle,
As I made my final sound:
“You’ll be dying, too,
From the poison in that brew.”
Then she fell …
Thudding broadly to the ground.
