The Show Tell Project

For Seymour's Fat Lady

Category: Poetry

Skin Deep

by fyarlgiles

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 I feel your frightened eyes

fumble and peel

as I pass —

She is

-so tall

She is

—so sure

That otherworldly creature

over there—

-Angie

 

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Schism

by fyarlgiles

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Yes–

 a blue-bold bolt of electricity

pierced

through that place in my head

where the soft spot used to be

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that’s why

 my mouth is where your eyes are

-and your heart

is where my skull is.

–and there are

two of every me

to be

to be

“Intwo” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

click on images for more information about the artists

Smooth Sands

by meaghanmerrifield

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the crumbs of stars

erode into smooth sands

count the age of time

litter suburban streets

whip the world around

in clouds of burning grey

until all that’s left

is scattered on

or contained under

ground

“Smooth Sands” by Meaghan Merrifield

Thought Through

by meaghanmerrifield

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eyes illuminate

below the calculated flicks of elongated lashes

bold brows raise sharply

in a delicate distraction

 as fragile fingers begin

to put into play

plans half-thought through

“Thought Through” by Meaghan Merrifield

On the Side of the Road

by fyarlgiles

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yesterday, on the car ride home,

I had to pull over and

imagine you

slipping your slight fingers

under my shirt and over my fluttering heart-

I let my eyes roll inwards

and back

 to that blinking

 jungle of cobweb confusion

that blossoms

in your body

between sleep and sight.

Where everything flashes

then falls

loose

and limp.

“I had to” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: Wildwood by Elle Hanley

On Your Merry-go-round

by fyarlgiles

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I see that it is me

I am running after.

soft, bowed legs

flat, smacking feet

and a lung inflated by the the pinching mist

of your marigold perfume.

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I live in

circles within circles in  a Nowhereland–

but

 as long as the haze of your touch

tingles

in my chest,

I am happy to spin

like a carousel horse

with a pole

through

its

spine.

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“Spun” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: A Delicate Balance by Morgan Kendall

Beauty Blooms Bold

by meaghanmerrifield

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beauty blooms bold

with a sweeping growth

so great

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yet tendrils turn treacherous

as the hours become late

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in an indulgent dance

they engulf the heads

they once meekly adorned

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each prickly bite

 unable to satiate

the aching  hunger of a soul scorned

“Beauty Blooms Bold” by Meaghan Merrifield

Plump Plumb

by fyarlgiles

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when curls unfold

limber fingers embrace salty hair

bound by the sea

through the earth

above the air

heaving hearts thrust blood out and around

as lips

once loose with language

slowly suck

breathes large and small

to fill plump plumb colored lungs

which swell

which fall

“Plump Plumb” by Meaghan Merrifield

An Actor and Love

by fyarlgiles

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Perhaps an actor should expect to fall in love.

Because, in a sense, it is part of the job description.

In a way, an actor could say,

“I audition, I network, I memorize lines, and I fall in love.”

We sat down, across from each other – the lights almost blinding. But within them, my eyes found one thing and comfortably focused on another pair of eyes, which blinked me into focus as I did him. They were brown eyes. When our eyes had adjusted, and all we could see was each other, there was something we then had to deal with, which neither of us had foreseen.

“I love you.”

When an actor says it, they have to mean it.

They have to feel it, or you can tell.

You watch a movie and you think,

“This fucking sucks.”

There’s no time for it.

Art that does not come from some manner of truth

Is self-indulgent without being rewarding.

(I don’t want to forget this feeling. When time stopped and all there was… was he and I. In real life he is married and I am living with my boyfriend, and this man and I know nothing about each other.

But an actor’s life is blurred with fantasy, blessed with passion, and cursed with un-satisfiable desire.

I knew that in this room, under these lights, this time set aside for us to act, I knew that I was safe and I was free to experience him. I these

eternal/too-brief

moments, I lamented and he lamented that he married too soon. A mistake had been made, because there was a magic here, a knowledge that came from somewhere else. And desire.)

DESIRE.

.

I allowed myself to enjoy it for a few hours.

But

Like

All

Love,

And

All

Things,

I know it is fleeting.

“An Actor and Love” by Vanessa Cate

Artwork: Drugi by Vesna Pesic

True Seeing

by fyarlgiles

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the curtain that I peer through is Ivory

not white-

 so when your legs tremble

in your back’s lonely slouch,

I see in them

the earthiness of light brown. And you are

  a little biege feather

quivering in anticipation of the morning breeze.

And this

and this

 is more soothing

than the truth.

“Through the Window” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: The Velvet Darkness of his Mind by Morgan Kendall