Poems For Her: 4. Lady Capulet's Balcony Scene

I, who was once Juliet, the naive young girl crossed in love, now play suitor to you.

I have tried to woo you, Lady Capulet, you who swore not to love after what that young bitch did to your heart.

Lady Capulet never got a balcony scene. But I stood beneath your window at 4am tossing pebbles at the glass to get your attention.

I stood beneath your window on a different afternoon, this time it was open, and I called for you to “let down your hair!”

But you are no Rapunzel. You don’t need to be rescued. And that is just as well, for I am no Prince Charming.

I, who was once both Dromio and Dromio, would never presume to call you Nell.

I love you just as strongly as he did her, and others might find fault in your beauty, as they did hers.

But you are too witty to be Nell, and are no man’s servant, nor wife.

I, who was once Julius Caesar, would not fear the Ideas, were you my Soothsayer.

And should my death fall into your hands again, should you be my “Et tu?” I would let your blade pierce me again and again, thrusting with eerie precision, until you illicit my final moan and I fall silent and still.

I would throw my laurels to the curb for you.

I, who still have the 14th sonnet committed to memory, could recite it all for you, and gladly.

But your beauty is not comparable to a summer’s day. Rather to an evening, in late spring or early fall, beautiful and clear but slightly chilly, with the moon a faint sliver behind the maple leaves. Dew on the grass.