Scripts dangle over our heads as we dance circles inside circles
The stage, a dusty ribcage of moth ridden cloth and cracking planks.
Blood velvet curtains layer over the heart, stifling the beat
meant to conduct the rhythmless motion of circles and strangers.
The audience has disappeared in the blinding light
If they were ever seated at all.
Am I the only one dizzy on stage?
Have mercy, close the curtain.
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