Poetry is read
tally marks off
an off-yellow sheet,
spoken, not
stirred
The boy smiles.
Lights flicker,
gently,
sending parchment-toned
shadows onto
a spiderweb
in the far corner.
Hats off now,
but more than that,
hats on the
floor,
fallen in
heaps of brims
and felt.
The lights flicker,
and this is
just one room,
one light,
in many.
The man continues
speaking, and his
voice spreads,
slowly,
into the darkness.