Orchestra

Phrases that walk over me Seem to do so when I want them to the least In a crowded auditorium a voice says Without your tools you are rendered fabulous The curtain's hanging More compelling than the stage The conductor is a good one I believe The musicians are let out in advance to talk Act natural, roam around The stretching of the legs in ties and tailoring A holy quality Chairs fixed to the floor The youngest violinist wears a shirt with a cinched waist Looks out remorsefully from it There won't be a dry eye tonight Says my neighbor Spreading out in opera glasses Weilding a program Impeccably printed Spit falls upon it As she bends the back page around the spine A distant ringing followed me home Mouthpieces Lit curves of the curtain The royal blue curtain imitating velvet The silent drapery With the capacity to fill us You Me Through my eyelids Bursts of the performance seem to bloom Like a bruise in low light The window's open I've been wide awake The heat of the room now gone My sneakers now washed hang by their laces