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Maquiller

by Matthew Zangen

A pause to appraise
in the passing player, he
without a name, wrung out with age,
drawn over like an empty room
rouged in fallen dust,

a lust of curtains may confess
their windows dressed a sorry stage
lit by every day
the burden of a one-man show,

just as certain he played
an understudied role
to hold without a touch,
to be loved without a trace.

07/13/2019

Posted on 07/13/2019
Copyright © 2019 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/15/19 at 12:13 AM

That first stanza is generous with its alliterations - fun to read. I loved the "drawn over like an empty room rouged in fallen dust," - clever use of "rouged". Such sadness in those last two lines.

Posted by Johanna May on 07/15/19 at 12:15 AM

What a lonely existence but there is grace in its endurance

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