Back, where the dust
is broken by footprints, back and forth,
along the floorboards, where the curtain cracks
are terrifying streams of light and audience,
where all is vibrating silence,
wait.

Time grows thick.
Suddenly all the moments,
the wasted slipshods
of rehearsal,
gather force and respect,
the smell of the dust and curtains
fuels the terror and the regret.

Back, behind the curtain face,
exhale.
The curtain splits, dilates, reveals,
find the strength to move:
inhale.