If you put me in your play
I’ll learn my lines whole, as I
might grow a second skin, and
slither between your candescent words
where no space was meant to be.
Block me out, motion for motion;
pace my steps to my hand gestures
the way a puppeteer plucks a human
banjo’s tendons and fleshy sinews,
making with the vocal chord music.
We can collude, extrude stage business,
like rearranging books, or flipping coins
over fingers and I’m a mixed drinks guy.
Start me rolling with a lighting cue;
I’ll unbutton my shirt, tip my hat, bang.
The whole show will soar to abrupt ovations
with your chill direction; chaotic impulses
composed by nods, beats, and lights.
•Shot from my iGun into your bulletproof devices: K. Shawn Edgar•