That apron, stage, is where I’m tied –
beyond my mother, now grown up –
but as a puppet, strings attached,
head lifted, limbs in jerky act;
but my appeal to the fourth wall,
the audience, participants.
My scooter took me, staircase base,
my make-up, face, bewilderment,
when muscle hunk played his part, cast
wide, embraced, scooped, lifted heights;
like Jacob’s ladder, angel climb,
that cherub, putti in my hands.
That play repeated without prompt –
save visibility alone –
in different scenes, in many acts.
It is no shame, that fourth wall claim,
to raise the curtain, reveal all,
be seen to be, a complement.
Used by permission of the author.