My time to lie down and die as prescribed, only known as “patient.”
From stage left, enter:
Sutured together in an unholy friendship.
Acquainted by bones held closely to my cheat.
“the role of Physical unrest today played by a courtesan,”
A voice wails from behind the curtain velveteen,
Dust heavy, too long, bloody incarnadine.
She plays an understudy, the nobody anyone rushed to see fall a part.
Our audience politely sighs,
Glancing at tonight’s playbill and shift in behinds squeak and uncomfortably crushed into Corinthian seats.
Heaving together an a capella sigh of disappointment.
Today my body portrayed the Middle East warring for fuel.
Raping the enemy with hammers pushed, harder through lustful hypodermics.
My lines spoken, I go wandering,
Offstage, off site, unwanted, barefoot and dry lipped;
A nomad, a Hebrew. Relatively she’s alone, not home.
A mother, my father, the dead with signs above their heads.
Light the candles dear passerby,
Your tour guide, “right over there she played a daughter.” They overheard my silent cries –
That’s not my coast, isn’t my ocean, not my sand, not your hand,
I no longer smell the salted hot white bag saving my bite.
Said in my head since the audience left for better known actors.
Instead, you sir alone you stay to see the night’s temporary.
No applause, and embarrassed by your eyes,
Covertly you force me to bend into a happen shape to cover my nudity.
Who told you why some baker had to twist pretzels into sad knots?
Ask me what it means.
Does anyone stand in to speak that question?
Back after the last play,
No one came by, they stopped when the conversation turned,
To malcontented topics of aunts who smile warmly, incontinent and pushed in wheelchairs,
Catheter bags hang low, they passed a few months back.
Impishly, my body denied and she hides behind a series
Of course Hamlet’s breath shows cold a ghostly father who smells of hemlock, Delights with whisperings of Juliet’s stupidity.
Shakespeare’s women fell behind tragic greed, seriously,
Or illogical acts of watery folly. Did they mean to die?
Continue reading “Understudy”