Rain drums its loose reggae beat on the tin roof
and do I see a rat scuttling across to the costume store?
Muffled audience sounds seep through the tabs:
expectorant coughs, expectant whispers.
Maya, panicking, asks my help - stage left or right?
'Left!' But all I really care about
is learning three scenes in three minutes.
Roger urges me to break a leg, and I'm not sure
how serious he is.
The curtain opens.
'Hi!'
(The fruit of a poetry writing workshop at Greenbelt - set theme: recurring dreams. The Roger in the poem is not my brother, but a colleague who has directed me several times.)
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