an empty stage

the final curtain fell

blanketing the theatre in the 

incorruptible silence of abandonment

whispering to empty seats where

 

the past lingers on

in paused faces frozen in expression

in half sung operas and 

muffled applause towards 

a deserted stage

empty—

save for the dusty veil of 

forgotten cobwebs and 

a marionette, alone 

illuminated by a half-risen moon

spinning to a phantom’s aria

trailing her linen shroud and strings

cut from reality