Peter, shakes his head, glasses
flashing in the fluorescent lights
as Jesus kneels with an empty
bowl near tube socked feet.
“Unless I wash you, you have
no part in me.” Jesus stands,
silently mouthing words
that aren’t in sync
with the sound system.
As the lights dim an automated
orchestra tightens their strings.
“Do it again,” from the sound
booth where blue neon shines
like a space cockpit, the director
lifts his head. “Jesus a bit slower.
Peter take off the socks and glasses.”
The men on stage pull at thrift shop
dresses, shuffle on cushions.
“We’ve got one last shot
to nail this scene before
show time. Ready?”
The director moves amidst
the light, waiting for his
actors to stand still,
listening for the music,
staring at empty seats.
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