POETRY

Ophelia
by Theresa E. LaVeck

Seven days I was weighted
as if I’d never rise
Oh, I saw the flowers
found round my head
and treacherous nunneries I smelled in your air

But I do deals with the River King
that float me downstream

Am I not mad
at your false-hearted mourning?

Cram your pansies and flowery remembrances
power is the poison in all your veins
may it rise with me
and drown you all

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