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THE PLAYS OF LILLIPUT by Sandra Beasley

depoetry
September 7, 2015

 

They are gathering the curtains
of my hair. They are priming
the fog machine in my lap.
O brass band of my heart!
O concession stand of my knee!
O audience, shuffling to your
seats, your shoes tickling
my thigh. Tonight, the actors
tune their voices. They put on
habits. They bead up rosaries.
Who doesn’t dream of clapping
the living daylights out of
such small, obedient faces?
O dressing room shoulder!
O sound booth shoulder!
O audience. Who doesn’t dream
of the spotlight burst into flame,
and all of you running into
the safety of my open mouth?


See more of Sandra Beasley's poetry at Depoetry.com.