Shakespeare In the Park
Romeo lies in a puddle
of self-pity,
his sword flung aside,
the blood of Tybalt
already darkening its blade,
while Saturn,
above and to the west,
is in alignment
with two stars, names unknown to me,
a celestial, hot-tipped arrow
drawn through the bow
of the crescent moon,
drawn and aimed
at Juliet.
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