Dramatic Irony

He’s gained an audience over the past few years. Colluding with his missteps and his demons. Shining a bright light, center mass. Waiting for applause. So proud of the spectacle he’s tied together with sinew and charred hearts. He chuckles as his puppets squirm. Promises immortality for such a small price. What is a soul anyway? But blood is pouring in from stage left. Skeletons drumfire, and pile over the catwalk. He’s still smiling. Perspiration falls from a brow intent on not furrowing. He’s shown his teeth to a crowd that now knows why he’s put so much effort into making tragedy into comedy. The spotlight crackles. And he can see the crowd. Faces scoured by truth. Nobody is laughing. The seats are empty. But the stage is brimming. The edged remains of his crooked dreams huddle closer. The cold crimson fills his lungs. The gurgling - drowning laughter. He prays for curtains. -James Kelley 2019