
ONE ACT PLAY


STAGED
we are the actors
who never got a gig
Hamlet
was not there that day
so we got turned away
(nothing we could do
that even
Charlton Heston
might save)
Ben Hur
El Cid
himself
we are the ones who got barely
a line
told ourselves “next time”
“next time”
convinced ourselves the world
would come around
forgive us for
missing our cue, falling
flat on our face
for when you
hit that
fourth wall
know it is all just a game
all
being staged
LIGHTS!
lights!, lights!,
we are
immersed in darkness
cannot find our
our way about
the stage
see if we are
in a tragedy or
a history play
in a love scene
or a whole act
of battle
though we appear to
be falling down everywhere
slipping in what
feels like
smells like
blood
prudence
tells us it could well
be the latter
or it’s all just
comic, absurd, existential, meta
whole world as stage
and we imprisoned
in a
brutal metaphor
lights!
lights!
WITH EURIPIDES it’s a strange theatre we are watching one where the actors leap off the stage slaughter the audience kill every single one of us I am sure neither the Elizabethans nor the Greek tragedians foresaw this development this total identification of player with character in this strange new brand of history play