Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

The instruments
      are tuning.
Shuffled talk
      and laughter
mixed
      within the
      murmur
of the chamber.

The actors’
      make-up,
        costumes

Set.

The discord
      dies.
The violin then
      starts to play,
all joining in:
      turmoil,
        chaos,
          passion
all mix in
      this prelude—
immensity
  and strength.

An ordinary drama—
      some might say,
another boring show
      by our playmeisters

But then,
      the tune
is changed
      the evening
is transformed

The curtain rises
      and the music
falls.
Falls down below,
      with it the light.

And then

the scene
      is bright.
The music
      deep.
Pause.

All is
    waiting
for the change

A whisper
     slowly
fills the space

An actor?     
  New?
We have not seen…
…this should be good!

And unsuspectingly
     submit.

He does not know
     and nor do they
yet he does see

     Step.
        Step.
And he is out.

     The stage
is flooded.
Pause.

He hesitates,
     he stops.
And recollects
     his purpose
then
     restarts again.

     Step.
        Step.
And he is out.
Enter a man.