Step right up
Stand straight
Head up
Eyes open
Have a marvel
The curtains cover what sits behind
Heavy
thick
beige
Curtains
Stains at the ends
From touching
Dragging
against the floor
Bits of dirt paint the ends
The collected squares
The edges
Shushes and soft murmurs
grow faint
Rustles of the curtain
bring excitement
Behold
the curtain moves
Slowly seconds pass with squeaks
Oil rubbing against metal
Darkness is revealed
Little globs of fluff sway in the air
As if pulled by the curtains
Take a look
Take a real look
There it is
Silently waiting for the gaze to fall
Once it hits the mark it grows
Cloaked with invisible string
Hands branch out
Fingertips trace the seams
There,
Right there
it could escape
What a show says a voice
Can’t see’em says another
But it’s there
A vapor, a mist, a collection of sighs
Embodied, anthropomorphized
being
Just not for all
Only a few can see its outline
Only less can watch its wonder
The heavy drapes
Push and pull to come to a close
Cocooned
The end