Black-and-grey set-up, mechanical language
prefaces the stage, will the audience hold the script
and yet keep their peace? The actor misses their cue,
not wanting to enter something they cannot exit
by their own means.
There is a speck on the backdrop of tropical rain.
It is inches away from the blonde head
of an actress mouthing the villain's lines,
afraid he will mess them up, or perhaps
she is living two roles at once, inside her.
Only people in ominous purple-black masks
stick to their lines. That makes them darlings,
for the audience loves to hate.
Two minutes to curtain call, and yet
watermelon-red light still going,
as if it will never switch off, never go dark,
but it will.