The Magic Flute.(Poem)

 
The Magic Flute 
 
   To begin with we stare into the huge nothingness 
   exposed by boards, flies, wings, wires. 
   Not even a feather floating in a shaft of light. 
 
   Grey figures appear and sit cross-legged 
   as if at a loose end. How to hold onto belief 
   that colour and voice will bloom in this place? 
 
   Sound shimmers in the darkness, a figure 
   in princely red strolls beneath silken clouds. Soon 
   he's falling in love with the portrait of a princess 
 
   and we are in love with the music, the enchantment 
   it threads. But what are those shadow sets 
   of shapes, shifting restlessly on the backdrop? 
 
   We make out heads, shoulders, arms and it dawns: 
   we're watching our rustling selves. A spotlight 
   travelling the ...