When the action gets going this feeling equates
to being short a page - tho probably I’m reading
the wrong scene - or maybe th’ play I’d thought
I was in had already been staged; perhaps back
on some other day when if was the rage - if that
can explain an indecent familiarity - dealt like th’
last card in a deck where you know you’re not a
winner - but then you’re not The Joker either
So we act a role we’re seemingly cast in with an
aplomb nurtured out of ageless characterisation
for which we’ve already won awards; saying the
words isn’t a trial - we’re contained in them as if
it doesn’t need thinking about, even tho change
is evident and the scenes are so different - or is
It just me - creating scenery where there’s none
© 31 July 2017, I. D. Carswell
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