Sacred rites have
Hidden players
Anticlimax, unbidden,
Steals the scene
The trap door opens
The protagonists fall through
Their lines forgotten
They laugh and scream in the dark
Above, an audience of corpses
Applauds with gusto
The curtain closes
Everyone goes home
Abandoned, the protagonists consume the dark
And are enlightened
They comprehend, at last,
The futility of rehearsal
Shed of old constraints
They vow to improvise
Without seeking
They find the door
And once again on stage
Begin performance of
An act so new
Its lines are yet unwritten
They play their greatest roles
To an empty house
Later, in the dressing room,
Removing their grease paint
They sip champagne
Eager to read the rave reviews
copyright 2011 Carol Rosenblum Perry