The Lights

The Lights

By Sheila Carter

Cue the lights

Ready…

Set…

Action!

The Drama is about to begin

But I suppose, it has always been on

Playing, film reeling

Curtain opening then never closing

But now the lights are shining like stars

Illuminating, burning in their brightness

When invisibility is sought, you only seem to see

The room is divided

The stage is halved

Does the light catch both or only cast a shadow?

They both exist for one cannot be without the other

The stage is a circle but the actor operates in a sphere

We live in global times, after all

Which half would sell the show? What would pass as appropriate?

Forget appropriation.

The antique religious figurines or the (movie) poster of the naked man?

Or perhaps the French impressionist painting would give a different flavor.

Should he publish the script? Would the story sell?

Might as well stay silent

There is no set wardrobe director because he dresses fabulously

Only business attire and social norms seem to dictate

But not so tangibly as to warrant mention in the credits right?

He dresses for himself as well as the “gorgeous white men”

Its supposed to be a secret but the show must go on

Fear pervades the sphere

There is no privacy when the camera is rolling

In the home least of all, but where is home?

Here, there, or nowhere?

The laugh track, booing, and clapping are always waiting in the wings

Possibly carrying the weight of his fate

But hey that’s the entertainment value am I right?

But a cautionary hopefulness prevails

Spin with spirit across the breach

Across the bridge

Within the sphere

You are whole

The drama is on everyday

The Quotidian Struggle

Rewind, fast forward, and PAUSE

Snapshot

The scene is set

Only he can change the design

Circle his sphere, space, sashay

There are no reruns

Just the familiar, the familial reappearing

Remittances

Time to pay it back

Would he exchange the struggle?

“Never darling, never!”

Cut the lights