Finale

take a bow, Sylvia.

this time it’s for real.
at least that’s what you tell yourself
fair lady, faint heart
beat steady and sound
thump, thump, thump
the echoing, cruel catcall
of the body hitting the floor.

this is not the first time.

what was it, anyway
that could have compelled you to stay
and try and fit the pieces together
when they’re only shards of glass?
bloody finger, bloody toe
it is all too unreal
and dull, if not an amusing satisfaction.

what could hold more truth
than a wandering eye, a wandering husband
squashed belly of a squirming toad
and a toddler’s shriek that fades to a migraine.
every day, always
it is all the same.

some fateful morning in the bleak midwinter
your heart, if it could, grew weaker and weaker
and the tile beneath your knees was cold.
colder than ice, the audience’s glare
tonight is your last performance
take a bow, blow a kiss
and someday they will understand.