Diving in the sequestered pod of
hours
To box out the truncated refuse
And start with freshly laundered
linens
Hung from the wire and sparkling
The theater of pantomime and
ignorance
The foundational stage of acting
Breathing with eyes on the audience
Recollecting lines and not the
rehearsals
As if this performance is novel
Vibrant in the moment of a
spectator’s awe
Hamlet finds an empathetic ear and
Ophelia is forgotten
The paranoia of tomorrow’s nightly
repetition is abated
For in the beat and measure of this
minute of dawn
Flowers glisten with the dew’s promise
The scorch of wilt and limping stem
is a hormonal rebuff
And the oasis of burgeoning love
swells
Oh, ye happy blind in the sunrise!
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