[flower]

Stage curtains kind of kick as they close,
kind of sweep the act up before them, then
bow, broom to dustpan.

Can we still pretend once the curtains
have put on such a show?

After the sex scene, two housecleaners
snap and levitate the sheets while
speaking in an unknown tongue.

Curtains shush their own pulleys and
the stage whispers of pulling hands.

Ever watch a sail unfurl, the hands
watching as it fills?  They’ll watch
until the wind pulls.

A flower unfolds like dark intermission
between birth and death.  It has its own beauty.

Paratroopers ache mid-fall
between draft and deployment.

They giggle and bend over the ropes,
those girls in black shirts, but the audience
stays in their seats.