"The Green Room" by Aparna Sanyal

The Green Room

Aparna Sanyal

Such coming and going through this, a

revolving door of tirades.

Lipsticked moues, red circles that desire

the arc lights. 

Never stopping, this parade of 

costume changes finds limelight, 

then velvet night 

behind curtains, drawn tight.

No stuttering here, only artful deceit,

intellectual distance seen 

through welling lenses, the mitre where 

detachment 

and overwhelm meet. 

This green room is my home, yours too, 

where we dress in shades to impress

and repress—

our lives redress.

Are we actors then, pure and plain?

Without wit, we pirouette

in someone else’s domain. 

Poet’s Notes:  I recently produced a play. Watching the actors and their professional detachment as they laugh and cry on cue always makes me think. Isn’t life a green room too? And are we all not waiting for our spotlight so we can play our parts? 

Editor’s Note:  Yes, the world's a stage.  Aparna’s conceit is hardly new, but I do enjoy her unique spin on it, and the message bears repeating.