After the performance

            I rushed backstage with my bouquet

            In the manner of a nobleman

            (From the Russian novels I had read)

            Although I hadn’t two cents

            Let alone a ‘von’ or patronymic

            To my name

 

            She blushed –

            Maybe it was my clothes

            Or earnestness –

            Thanked me and turned away

            To greet her throng

 

            In that heyday of my ignorance

            I braved the cold and lay in wait

            Along the street outside the hall

            For one more glimpse

 

            It wasn’t the limitless perfection of her art

            The perilous magnificence of the dance

            Those past three nights

 

            It was a look

            Transcending character

            I needed to confirm

 

            That fought for beauty tooth and nail

            Despite the ravages of poverty and love,

            Chance, injustice or the cruel

            Indignities of pettiness and power

 

            I spied the cigarette as she emerged

 

            At my approach she stopped

            And as I babbled who knows what

            She took my hand

 

            Defying her bewildered friends

            She led me back into the theatre

            And upon the stage

 

            The house was empty, dark

 

            Her smoky kiss dared me to take

            Far more than I had bargained for

 

            I took

 

            And then we took our bow