Laertes has groupies, proof he has taste,
has cool. Wears skate-board clothes: elephant pants,
the crotch snagging his knees, tent-size tee-shirt.
He wants the play staged at a roller rink:
him, Fortinbras, and me wearing in-lines,
the rest in quads. And instead of a duel,
we throw ourselves a roller-derby brawl.
Why not? Do something with a little class
to offset the end’s cartoon slaughter house.
The juxtaposition of the words “cartoon” and “slaughter-house” create an oxymoronic image that retro-envelopes the entire poem. If I were to steal an image, it would be, “the crotch snagging the knees.” But, I would probably be placing the image between a young man and a woman. Nice tight work, Dr. Berry.