Gestural Performance for a Pettiscope

I drift into the flimsy strands of a dream:

 

Above the green leather sofa,

A dark landscape,

A horse drawn carriage

A sad man by a lake

Whistling a secret tune

 

I could not be saved from what I heard –

 

Beware the lonely kettle

How it used to bubble merrily

 

But now the pool – incandescent and sacramental –

sits darkly in the cistern

Baptised anew.

 

This! This is the triple incarnation of mind, flesh, and wood! This is the liturgical whisper, the voice of purgatory, the cradling confessional box, the writing table, the stage. There is no fool like an old fool and this is the living tomb.