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This Great Illusion
by Trevor Worthey
Bring out wood, raise a wall—
Two more to form a room.
Set the buildings on oil-wheeled carts
Too small to block a drop.
Set tables and chairs,
Put out food to fill
The empty stomachs of the stars.
Make secure the empty doors
Make sturdy these stairs
Finish off the paint of banisters;
Fuel this great illusion.
Brush on a base
Paint the eyes with glowing colors
Smear the lines to make them look…
Natural.
Pour tirelessly over a script
Know each entrance, cue.
(The lines don’t matter—
You’ll soon be babbling them
Through what little sleep you gain.)
Sight is important here
You will not be in light
Your eyes eclipsed in shade,
All the better
To create this great illusion.
We are like Gods of the Stage
We make nascent these images,
This Royal Façade
Of brilliance.
We instill bloody nostalgia
In the sleep of the general public
Dreaming, for a great illusion.
Affluent and illustrious
The house gleams
With a dim light intoxicating
The announcement:
Please, turn off your cells
Don’t flash your cameras…
Revel in
The great illusion tonight.
As the whispers settle
Into the darkness,
A dark heroine takes the scene;
Before her, a great maroon runner.
To her back, a thousand expectant eyes
Waiting
To be…
Amazed.
-----------
No breath
No sound
Save a small child
(Ignorant, new—to the illusion)
Asking, imploring:
What will happen next?
-----------
Her white-clad form
Is barely perceptible
But all know, sense,
As she raises her boot
That soon will begin
The great illusion impending.
STOMP.
Up come the lights—
A blinding epiphany!
No. The angry cry
Of a misfit ‘child’.
In, she starts
With a modern poem
Of her own devising
And so begins
A great illusion.
And soon, lies dead
Bloody, and torn,
This accountant from Bedford
This priestess of the coven—
No! The heroic woman,
Her body broken by guards—
Of society—
Is the girl who lies
Who fell,
Whose story is made clear
Through a great illusion.

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