nettles in the river

making face in dressing room mirror. I wear blue stockings under green pantaloons and a jester's hat with bells. a fool for a play within another play. onstage I only skirt the story, garnish used as needed to make a greater case for others. from the wings I listen to the disgraced prince break his lover's heart. she will take this wound as sentence to a death too soon, lying with the daisies and the nettles in the river. a little like the song you love. soon after I will bring a spade to dig her grave as someone else. this someone else will sing and laugh, knowing death is just a door we bide our lifetime queueing for. I wonder if he'd make you laugh. I remember when you said you'd love to help me learn his lines.