From afar, the patchwork paisleys, tights
and robes, gaudy gowns
a glitter, the ladies

all a carnival, a sumptuous play, riches
on display until full light
hits her full force and then we see

the sawdust backgrounds, painted bright
to eye fool eyefulls, add horizons,
set the stages

gap between surreal, unreal, and real
and really, do they know
the way they fool us themselves?

and then the way the light hits
their saddened eyes
the lacework lashes

such pride in paisley promises
stony pride
in teetering at proscenium’s gap

I was thinking yesterday morning about a poem about the difference between a theatrical costume seen up close, and one seen from far away. Then I abandoned the notion as simplistic. Tonight the verse “and then the way the light hits/their saddened eyes/the lacework lashes” came to me while reading the last Rebus novel, Exit Music. So here it is.