Poison seems my only hope, unless

you can give me some advice about this boy.

You see, at first I tried to act coy

but he’s persistent, so that didn’t work.

Oh it’s about to drive me berserk

the way he constantly recites poetry!

(Dead men’s words just don’t excite me).

One night, Poor Petrarch put his palm to mine

(apparently forgetting Miss Rosaline)

and had the chutzpah to ask me to kiss him,

calling his lips “two blushing pilgrims.”

Thank goodness my nurse saved me in time 

before he could spit another saccharine line.

I mean, jeeeez!  We had only met that night!

But as a lady, I’m supposed to be polite.

Now, I’m afraid I flirted too soon,

for that same night I heard him call up to my room

and say how I was like the sun or something.

Abby, all I want is a meaningless fling!

I’m only thirteen!  I don’t care about love.

And to top it all off (as if that weren’t enough)

Did I mention that he also killed my cousin?

Yeah.  In a street fight.  He acted like it was nothing. 

To say the least, the guy lacks stability,

and I’m telling you, I’m afraid for my safety.

What if he gets angry and puts me in danger?

So – to avoid that (and marrying a stranger)

I have led him on and agreed to marry him!

I can’t marry this idiot! What am I to do?

And the friar, the fool, is in on it, too!

I haven’t told you what would happen if my parents knew-

Let’s just say I’d be in a convent for at least a year or two.

I beg you, Dear Abby, be quick with your reply-

Because if you’re not — I swear I’ll just die! 

————

Siobhan says: “I graduated from the Creative Writing Program at Florida State University. I now live in Austin TX where I write for a travel website and teach college composition. I also write book reviews for PopMatters and have a poem forthcoming in the December issue of Decomp.com.”