A Poem a Day (649): Macbeth

Macbeth
 
Colouring in the edges
of style. The scene sets, a stage
wracked with unconditional charm.
 
They act in parts. Depart apart,
together, unchained, eclipsed,
two swans gliding on water.
 
It’s a fake battle with plastic swords.
The dressing-up comes easy,
but the lines, the lines are lost.
 
Someone laughs and the game’s up.
There are no words because he forgot,
and so the curtain must come down.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 20, 2024