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.