the audience rose as the curtains closed
caesura and then a final breath
the performance is over the director said
her fingertips pressed against your wrist
though still we cried: encore! encore!
too soon! too soon! we expected more!
yet then they raised the overhead lights
you can weep as much as you like she said
but that's the end and your leading lady is dead
show me the script where it's written this way
why a last scene we all deplore
is an outcome each witness is sure to abhor
O give me a pen and a sheet of paper
and I will get busy emending
rewriting it as it was meant to be - a far happier ending
too late! too late! the whole cast cries
while my lover lies draped on the bed:
it must be as writ for we cannot change it -
your leading lady stays dead
December 2022
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem