Role Mother (Poetry)

Act One

I never auditioned for the part —
it fell to me,
random as a dice throw —
double sixes when the moon was blood
and passion’s tide smothering
the fire alarm.

Part sorcery, part sexual tongue —
that spell that bloated me,
made me coo and coax
my lunar breasts to overload —
brew the thin white words
I milked for love.

Act Two

I lullabied and rocked
for all that I was worth —
imagining I played it fairly well —
a brave attempt,
commited and intense my act,
so nearly word-perfect.

There was some mild applause — polite
encouragement to satisfy,
but real approval — rave revues
and adulation centred on the child —
her bewitching debut
fooled us all.

Act Three — Finale

From the wings I watched
love’s trapdoor goblin lure her,
felt the sharpness of the serpent’s tooth
biting as she went so willingly —
my role disposable
for the sake of drama.