The Show Must Go On Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

The Show Must Go On



Back there are storage rooms
crammed to the beams
with trunks of costumes,
coats, and shoes and hats,
old scripts and notes in boxes,
powders, creams and
tables, chairs and
thickly painted flats.
This stage is set.
It all has been arranged.
Whichever role I pick to play
I know my lines, my moves,
what must be changed.
I'm planning
quite a lively, moving show.
For many years
I've fought off my despair,
rehearsing what I could alone.
I bought this nice cologne,
here's naughty underwear.
Which lights,
which sheets,
which wine
took lots of thought.
I hoard these props
still hoping to attract
another actor
for my opening act.

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