fred’s backdrop

Poem #132 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


it’s only a play

only a play …

he muttered
half to himself
half
to his silent listener

only a play but
every performance
they want me
to do a new backdrop

he began
as he always began
with a vast
black sheet

for paint
he had mixed pots
of his own formulae

plaster white
for the most part

stars here …

stars there …

they’ve got no idea
what star …

he carefully reached
to dab
near the centre
of the sheet

…what star
goes where

it amuses me
from time to time
to create …

another reach
and dab

… the brand new
constellation
of
Fred

he laughed
into a coughing
gurgle

sighed

the centrepiece
or
off-centerpiece tonight
was to be a three-quarter moon

looking cool
and distant

small

last night

he said

I had to do it
smaller

tomorrow night
they’ll want it
to be bigger

it changes
Fred
every night

just look at the script

they say

only
a bloody play

he sat back
on his knees
and attempted to draw in
a mouthful of smoke
from the stub of a smoke
permanently attached
to the side
of his lower lip

a last dab

two

right
that’s done

now
give us a hand
to get this up
would you

the show starts
at sundown


© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #133: centre-side

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