I open my eyes and draw the curtains
To an empty stage.
I take two steps that echo;
I cross the line of curtain drawn.
The actors, I tell in solemn tone,
Have not arrived,
And will not for some time.
I stand and wait, brows furrowed,
Hands clasped before my mouth
To hide a grin.
The people watch, ensnared
And silent.
Lights point to hardwood floor
And my bare skull.
There is no movement but mine –
Two steps behind the line and off
The edge of their perception.
I’ll take with me the sound of
Two steps;
Leave with them
Two echoes,
An afterthought.