The Actor Poem by Eris Watson

Look at the actor.
Spreading his arms like wings,
As if trying to fly
Over the heads of his audience,
Who stare at his shadow,
Speechless.
He flaps his arms about-
His movements are shouting.
He’s speaking so fast
He spits at the front row.
He is a magnificent fake-
A fantastically flapping,
Spitting and flying pretender.
Now he’s clawing
At the space in front of him,
Then at his throat.
The shadow grows
As the sun sets in the window
Behind him,
Putting everything into contrast-
Orange glow
Projecting blue shade.
The smallish crowd
Shrink back,
The thespian’s hands
Curl into fists
And the spit
Shoots further.
The room is nearly black.
His knuckles are white,
And the light
Seems to dim.

He stops and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

The actor climbs down from his chair
And soars.