the glamor and glaze; the love of the dream
and all its on-looking haze
it’s still there.
but the plays; the twisted and funky things
their spirits need(ed) to do and say
on behalf of those, watching—themselves
acting out on that stage:
am I drawing this curtain to fade?
perhaps my desire to create over-grew itself so much
it lost its hard-on.
common, they say—this type of loss…
for folks of middle-age.
but how can you, Woman? my spirit asks.
With eyes and pants fresh and wet as those coming-of-age!
Will i forego on setting the coffee table and the couch as prop,
for The Jealous Dog to get his way?
and what about the neighbour’s window? as metaphor
for The Pussy Trap to clasp its prey.
– Kiki Dranias
Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash
