Bernhardt On Her Knees Poem by Laurence Overmire

She was a brilliant actress
I’d seen her play Medea
But shy in nature, no beauty
To be sure, she wasn’t
Visible to bean-counting
Suits munching sandwiches
In cramped audition rooms
Wielding cell phones like
Stilettos to spear a deal.

She could have been a star
A talent for the ages
But golden opportunity never came
In modest insecurity she
Toiled under hot lights
Making bland commercials
The homely housewife scrubbing
Floors.


(Previously published in Apollo's Lyre, Spring '07)