Soliloquy
It’s dark. The stage is quite aware
these times occur. Days might grow
to weeks before the spot
has anything to follow, the flood
can make the play. But this one’s
dragging on. Something’s up
the stage believes. Its boards
tell it the story, their silence all
it needs to know, a mute
denial of returns. No feet to find
their mark. No entrances
or exits. No sound where once
applause would break in waves
against its drapes. Maybe, the stage
begins to think, a note will issue
from the wings, a step
will cause a random board to creak
and light will bathe the space
that’s felt its absence keenly,
like some nagging ache. The day
will come. What’s needed is
a number for the climax of the show,
the long-awaited redraft of the script
expected in tomorrow’s post.
Brian Johnstone’s poems have appeared in Scotland and in over 20 countries worldwide. He has published seven poetry collections, plus a prose memoir Double Exposure (Saraband, 2017). His most recent pamphlet Juke Box Jeopardy (Red Squirrel Press, 2018) was shortlisted for the Callum MacDonald Memorial Award 2019. His next collection, The Marks on the Map, will be published by Arc in October. He is a founder and former Director of the StAnza Poetry Festival. www.brianjohnstonepoet.co.uk
new boots and pantisocracies 