Work In Progress
Poetry / Verse
Drama Class
by Joanna Morris
I love to watch my first years prance about like fowls testing their legs; they yearn
to display their bodies and soles.
There is always a shy one, a fat one and an ugly one. All wanting the same thing:
They want to be heard.
They are improvising a scene from The Seagull today. Abbey, unselfconscious,
begs the staring role of Nina.
She enchants me, her voice is all pear drops and princesses and
her body is round and brown and soft like mammy’s.
As they finish they pack away their electronics and discuss their night out. An excitable
flock has formed around Abbey.
I can see the top of her bottom, she has our stars and strips tattooed
in the indent of her back.
I glide over, she holds a glass ornament in her hand, you know the snow storm type; but
in this one it rains glitter.
Inside is an Indian from the Sioux tribe in full authentic dress; apart from the plastic
of his knife to stop him from harming himself.
In the corner his tepee stands proud and a slither of smoke slips out. His buffalo
is wild and free.
Abbey hands him a stringy piece of mince and a cherry aid from the A&P supermarket,
he signs his thanks and places the meat on his gas barbecue in the tepee.
After eating, the Indian goes out horse riding. The horses main, tail and forelock have
been plated pink, violet and gold. The horse and Indian both have hypnotic blue eyes.
The girls watch for a while then bolt off for their next lesson.
I perch on the table. “I’m the seagull. No that’s not right.....”
The last line is a quote from The Seagull Page 64.
Chekhov,A. (2002). The Seagull London, Methuen Publishing.
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