|
| |
Curtains
Who is this envious backdrop with tears of joy? With blushing tableau, if you only knew curtains can talk. It is I, smiling wide with arching legs, which begs the question, draping over time Keeping tabs on the borders and travelers. What are you now but then something else entirely. Then there were no applause just whispers in the dark. My darling, it is still I with teaser and tormentors, capturing your eyes and imagination Why must you do all this staging, the drama is to heavy like a dark vail of blackened chainmail Taking a pause for the Olio, brought to you by friend or foe The nervous giggles from behind, dropped just for show. As with the opening, it is I with the laughter of the ages. Addressing or undressing with these eyes, Why so scrim? Flowing with deeper shades of green upon this stage, You child forget, that I knew you before all this bustier and you don't give a damn and I will close with a slight wave.
Copyright ©
John Beam
|
|