My lord, upon the platform where we watch.

I remember a moment in my high school black box theatre –
Just like that.
Line; read
Imagination zooms to the past and drops
A platform on my foot
The edge of it is sharp and breaks the skin
Leaving me a jagged scar
Long faded now
But once, angry
Once, wide, and gaping.
Memory retains the black metal and wood,
The blood
The pain
The surprise
The location (downstage, in front of the seating bank)
The quality of light
The only thing I can’t recall
Is who dropped it.


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