DIAGRAM >> Walking the Body Sestina

A lost and found shelf straddles the place where,
lines memorized to a "T," the actor finds
the stage markings in spite of the lights. Body,
with its own leash, takes a neighborhood walk.
Sir Tyrone, as usual without socks, directs
from the third row. He leans back, watching
the stage hands as they license the watching
of backdrops while seamstresses sew where
carpenters fear to tread. The conductor directs
violin music for the opening, finds
flaws in the measured footlights' graceful walk
across the stage. Tell me, is the body
one word or two? Does it sound like body,
pantomime of a foot motion watching
two gazebos hung from wire that jay walk
into their parts with steel magnolias? Where
does the electric eye connect or find
parameters for the nozzle that directs
the character into each seat, directs
the half life of stars around the body
sequel of scanned iris IDs? Who finds
binoculars for perfect bird watching
from each box, catching the scenes where
all the extras mill about, then walk
back toward the exits. When they do walk
to the concession stand, the line directs
them to buy super-sized. The floodlights where
the wings and curtains meet let the body
double take all the risks, a look-alike watching
the movement of the star until he finds
an inner tube to expand his lungs, finds
a breath in each step of the nude seeds. Walk
beside the understudy. You, watching
all this contrivance, see he directs
breath, moves the words out of the body
to the loose container of air where
he finds a special order, then directs
a slow spiral walk out of the body—
the audience watching here and where.