Unmitigated Joy


So, you walk into the opera house

and start swinging from the chandeliers;

gilt corners walk around in your vision,

promises descend from the ceilings

like dust.


Instantly, you remember the last time

you were here, the smell is too many

performances crowded in one space-like

stage. The seats are not new. There

in the distance, the curtain.


Now it begins, the overture, the dancers

float out unable to touch the ground,

so that for an hour or so, with intermission,

you teleport into the realm of muscle

disciplined motion and music so loud

your heart grows ears and then wings.






Last year I saw Swan Lake performed for the first time. I can die now. - slc

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