A Belgium Dancer told me to tell you something with her fingers on this stage… something important
By: Domenic Maltempi
8-22-08
I will put on a show for you as both puppet King and Queen
fall into the orchestra pit cocooned in a mellowed grief
and the sounds they would make as I fall with no hands
transform me to a room
that traveled to where you still slept easy
we can sit anywhere that you like
we may lay on the ground and joke about space
they don’t eat fish there and neither will you
her sheet music hair dirty for years
purring so clean
the King’s stilted breathing all we may hear but wait..
We will have the Queen become a scatting signer
drawing elaborate stages with her fingers
on frosted train windows
vociferous objections would not splinter her resolve
from a surly king high on Sinus medicine and strange ablutions
wheezing spittle from flatterers, air-condition drips from bum alley heights
communal songs with old English Concertinas
will rally our spirits above these plastic feudal times
parading as a paradise holding pen
if you believe them if you let them
our show will conclude with a rousing chorus