backstage pacing the energy of ‘at once’
the same convergent horror of unwanted nocturnal emissions
aloneness and cut off from the stage manager’s clip board and the drunk extras
history drops off
that the Haitian Revolution has happened
is weaned by its not being here because the only now is now where forgetfulness reigns
it is the chaos of ten tiny circular spice bottles some of which bear dangerous street
drugs unannounced to you but each holds its own condolences
your kingdom is not in order your own sloughed off detritus of chinese take out
and curled up scripts taunt you on a hair-of-the-dog edge
its deafening-the warfare of your own choosing-it will carry
ruin or genius which either way ends up in after-show bar close
such silliness in that minute before hearing “…yes and it’s trouble that will find us”
Ryan McGivern
