On arriving at the theatre in good time there was no queue
so I collected my ticket and passed through the empty foyer.
I bought a programme and called in briefly at the bar
before settling into my seat in the centre stalls.
I opened the programme to find that every page was blank
and was on the point of returning to the foyer to complain
when the house-lights began to fade. At that moment
I realized that I was completely alone in the auditorium.
But it didn’t matter, because when the curtain rose
and the stage was flooded with light… nothing happened.
The only sound was the buzzing of the electrics
The only movement, the occasional ripple of the back-cloth.
Reluctantly at first I watched an empty space
thinking, I am watching an empty space. Then slowly
the emptiness within me began to fill the vacuum without.
Too soon the safety curtain like a dull screen-saver.
To avoid the usual crush I had taken the precaution
of ordering my interval drinks before the performance.
And alone in the bar sipped my whisky impatiently
until the first bell called me back to my seat.
Though similar in every respect, the second half
was even better than the first, and internalizing,
I could more easily interpret the significance
of what I was not seeing. The effect was dramatic.
When the final curtain fell I knew I had witnessed genius.
I jumped to my feet and applauded. ‘Author!’ I cried. ‘Author!’
As the applause died down I climbed on stage, took a bow,
and with all due modesty, acknowledged the silence.