Logan Fry

Her time has passed. A slap and the
   audience gasps. Withhold the air,

   make it woozy. The squirming rift
between film and theater is diffuse

faces black but looking toward.
You understand that don’t you,

her time has passed. A '70s look
   wanders into this, excess chunky

chairs strewn in a room longer
   than wide. Have to go on but where?

A slap and she tumbles, she will not
   rise. Foil in a bind as the audience

   shifts in hinged seats, my! she sure
can improvise. Her time has passed

   but where? Have to go on gasps.
A slap muffled in unfolding fabric billows.












ON THE VALUE OF VHS COLOR BLEED: Whether the pink risen in Myrtle Gordon’s face is the same pink risen in Gena Rowlands’ face, is the same pink risen in rehearsal and opening night. Whether action rises into drama without that audience to saturate from the stage carpet the red risen into her cheek, she having fallen, unwilling to anymore diffuse identity in artifice in rehearsal or otherwise. Whether a slap can be rehearsed.