Mel Gibson’s Hamlet stinks — doll Mel. Wind up
Mel and Mel’s eyes glaze into porcelain,
blue gulfs of earnestness, and Gertrude
sucks it up, swilling Mel’s sincerity —
Makes me want to haul off and retch my speech
about the dew, dissolve into ADIEU.
My family doesn’t understand water.
The closest dad ever shies to water’s
when heading back into the flames to yell
A DEW, A DEW — a joke lost on your Mel
Gibson, outplayed by even the castle.