The Player’s Plight

Enter Stage Right:

Medicine Man brings miracle –
Prescription for performing –
The antidote for agony
from pharmacy of philosophy
is firm foundation,
structure,
faith
and benefit
of the doubt is a powerful drug –
it can knock you out for years
as long as you keep using it.

Stage set with scene of full bed,
empty,
pillow at each side,
as if made for two;
but she read the script,
she knows each night of this play is spent alone –
she knows the plot twist called loneliness,
and she remembers when that room was furnished with fantasy
and she wasn’t alone.

A body lay there, sleeping,
awakened by memories of the script she wrote –
he must have read it wrong.

She had learned to be an actress
who only knew her role
in a script she didn’t write
and every single benefit of every single doubt
was given to the unseen,
shaking hand of the playwright
who seemed to change in shape and form and meaning
the longer she kept using it.

So she thought, maybe,
maybe if she said it this way
or maybe,
maybe if she smiled that way,
maybe
the director wouldn’t macerate her makeup
with crude, chastising, cruelties,
vaguely very real threats,
a gun to her head,
“Do it BETTER,”
which really meant, do it “MY WAY”,
which seemed to change in shape and form and meaning
the longer he kept using her.

But
the director has nothing without the actress.
The actress can just find another script
or write her own.

So maybe,
Maybe
she didn’t want to be an actress anymore.

But
what happens when actress tries to become director is
she gets fired
or maybe,
Maybe
she walks away,
or runs,
escapes,
replaced
by one who can play “quiet” better.

Either way.

Maybe,
Maybe she read the script wrong
or maybe –
bad script.

Either way.

Maybe I don’t want to be an actress anymore.
Maybe,
Yes,
I want to stop pretending this wasn’t about me in the first place.

The bed looks pretty all nice and made
with plethora of pillows
and lace overlays,
daffodils dallying on duvet cover
which everybody knows is just for show
but doesn’t it look nice?
Makes it look like home
which, of course,
is where the heart is.

But last time I checked
I took my heart with me
and lay it down to sleep,
buried in my chest
under covers,
a blanket worn, but present,
a gift from miracle maker –
Medicine Man,
lying in firm foundation,
structure,
faith,
as I turn to see
full space,
empty

and I miss
something –
No, not you,
no,
I just
wish
you were something worth missing.

EJZ 07.05.2015

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One thought on “The Player’s Plight

  1. Pingback: This is a good poem. | wordsoflyzzdom

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