I spied you standing in the wings

With your hand on the lever,

Hair thick with dust clumps and splinters.

They thought you one of their own,

But I knew different.


In the night I could hear

That inner asylum of shrieks and contortions —

Your world in renovation only half complete.

Wild eyes and bared teeth,

Ready to pounce at any moment.


Strapped into the harness of insanity.

Not yours. Borrowed.

Stuck, like a test pilot in a flight gone wrong.

The single rotating axle of an intemperate smile

Drenched in fear.


17 thoughts on “Stagecraft

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    • Thank you, Chris. For some reason today I have been enthralled by darker themes. I cannot fully account for the mood, but decided to allow it to feed my creativity, rather than attempting to struggle against it. The undercurrent running through my mind as I wrote this was one of life as a theatre stage, hence the title. It took me to an unexpected place.

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