fabulette

seated on a bench in her violet modern kitchenette

juliet sighs and relives the death of her lover annette,

a female romeo as fair and brave as you could get.

she stares hollowly at the ash-enclosing urn casket

and wishes for a sleep that could take the grief away.

closing her wet eyes and mourning her lost loved one

she murmurs in her most soft and whitmannette way:
“o captainette, my captainette, our fearful trip is done… ”