kneeling, the metal grates of the floor

biting into my knees

damp hands resting on the heated, plastic surface

through the material of my sweatshirt

the smell of burning dust

the distortion of the stage through the watery heat

the fierce conviction of the actors' lines, drifting up

to the catwalk

the dry taste in my mouth

clumsy fingers adjusting the beams of light

that shine onto expressive faces

like the hands of God

from the shadows of the catwalk

playing a deity of light for the small price

of scorched fingertips & sweaty palms & bruised knees