Sonnets for Dancer XXXIII
How you were,
How we might,
the sooner it starts,
the later the night
when that appregio descends,
the final fish dive,
that soothing bow rends
the new casting of our next lives.
The few slumbering in the rafters then,
the many in their pews, the mezzanine full,
startled to their feet, their toes theirs again,
to clasp soundly, to remember their wholly
vows for a better self in signed duplicate,
the reflections in the eyes of the stage-lighted.