The curtain came down long
ago and no one’s moving.
Typecast, practiced in the art
of sitting to watch television’s
feast of news with its mix of
war and peace and advertising,
we have played the role of
Audience, which requires no
make-up, costume, or tedious
rehearsal, but requires silence.
We must mute ourselves if
we are to ‘own’ our role as
we watch them die one by one
nosey dad, love-daft daughter,
followed by collateral royal
killings, unlike the ordinary
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