Matinee
by Hester J. Rook


Sharon Sieben, Aubergine Gothic                                              


Carnivorous

I take the stage.

There is a hunger in me

a redjawed ache.

If they slit me open now

all they will find is ash.

 

I bay like birds expanding.

 

Eating hurts

but the good pain — like the cold gasp

of ocean over lungs,

a mouthful of salt

or the memory of one who you love

who you hate

who you love.

 

I rend plum-mouthed, reddening.

 

My audience squeals

like the cut of a knife

a brief slash of noise

(they do not trust my

transformation

but then, who trusts a beast with the face

of a girl?)

 

And then:

I devour.

 

My teeth flicker into aubergine

burst into warmth

and then it is

over.

 

After: tea

tallow soft and tender,

for the digestion.

A dressing room pause until

 

it is time to perform again.







Edgar Degas, The Actresses' Dressing Room, 1885.                     



Hester J. Rook is a Rhysling Award nominated poet and co-editor of Twisted Moon Magazine. She's on Twitter @hesterjrook and on wordpress at hesterjrook.wordpress.com



www.000webhost.com