Theatre
Tear on grey eye,
Grey hair,
Grey face,
Pale as new snow;
My father stands;
Offering his hand,
His comfort,
He’s dealt with death before;
Old skin’s rivers run.
He tries to be strong.
Old man on hallway
Nearly breaks down.
Hospital:
Nurse comforts,
Doctor informs,
Clinical corridors,
House of death.
Old man weak,
White as a sheet,
Asks me how I am,
How my evenings been:
Play:
Two tramps fight,
Lives gloomier than mine,
My father stands strong;
This is too much.
Too much like a play.
Offstage:
Woman is in hospital,
All the old man has…
I forgot my line,
They carry on anyway.
Monologue:
Man loses woman,
Man loses hope,
Director dims the lights…
I begin to cry;
I close my eyes.
Old man asks how I am…
I should know this line!
Actors stare at me;
Director grins:
Old man leaves.
I no longer want coffee.
My father stands;
Offering his hand;
Old man asks how I am…
Why don’t I get this part right?
Irish, scouse,
My father stands;
He’s dealt with death before.
Clinical corridors,
Too much like a play.
Grey eye,
Grey hair,
Grey face,
Old skin’s river run,
White, grey, white, water.
Director moves props…
Offstage:
Old man in hallway.
I can’t answer!
I can’t handle his sadness!
Old skin’s river runs,
Not much time,
Still time left…
White dog plays with ball;
Akita senses the mood,
Comes for stroke…
Standing ovation. Exeunt.
Grey hair,
Grey face,
Pale as new snow;
My father stands;
Offering his hand,
His comfort,
He’s dealt with death before;
Old skin’s rivers run.
He tries to be strong.
Old man on hallway
Nearly breaks down.
Hospital:
Nurse comforts,
Doctor informs,
Clinical corridors,
House of death.
Old man weak,
White as a sheet,
Asks me how I am,
How my evenings been:
Play:
Two tramps fight,
Lives gloomier than mine,
My father stands strong;
This is too much.
Too much like a play.
Offstage:
Woman is in hospital,
All the old man has…
I forgot my line,
They carry on anyway.
Monologue:
Man loses woman,
Man loses hope,
Director dims the lights…
I begin to cry;
I close my eyes.
Old man asks how I am…
I should know this line!
Actors stare at me;
Director grins:
Old man leaves.
I no longer want coffee.
My father stands;
Offering his hand;
Old man asks how I am…
Why don’t I get this part right?
Irish, scouse,
My father stands;
He’s dealt with death before.
Clinical corridors,
Too much like a play.
Grey eye,
Grey hair,
Grey face,
Old skin’s river run,
White, grey, white, water.
Director moves props…
Offstage:
Old man in hallway.
I can’t answer!
I can’t handle his sadness!
Old skin’s river runs,
Not much time,
Still time left…
White dog plays with ball;
Akita senses the mood,
Comes for stroke…
Standing ovation. Exeunt.