For an Actress, Aged 52, Just Getting Started

The lights clap on,
at attention
and tape residue flickers on the stage
as curtains rattle aside

and page and page upon page
flutters, illuminated
by the woman whose lines
are of wisdom not the paper.

There out amongst the darkness,
half-felt faces swim obscured and
gilded by the promise of applause
and cast families long hours–

Each a father and
each a mother,
a daughter

the whole swollen garden
of lives lived,
of kids
and seeds departing from the soil.

Until the last encore
and even then
leave them wanting more.


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