handed in, kept safe
Lost Property
the small room at the back
Doors that were never hung, tickets that were never torn, pictures that missed their page. Everything here already belonged to the library — it just never found a shelf.
The theatre, front of houseA facade with no show running. 
The curtain, thenHung for a moment, taken down again. 
The audienceA full house, waiting on a page that never came. 
The duetTwo figures mid-song, filed under spare. 
The danceKept in the wings. 
The costumePressed, labelled, never worn. 
The stage doorThe one the cast leave by. 
WardrobeBackstage, between calls. 
ReachingA hand toward the light. 
Box officeNo queue tonight. 
Back of the hallThe room from the wrong side. 
A portrait, dancingFramed, then un-framed. 
The rose, close upOne bloom, handed in. 
The dressing-room doorStar on it and everything. 
A door to a still lifeAn early way in, since replaced. 
A door shaped like a busIt still goes somewhere. 
One ticket, My Fake LoveNever torn at the door. 
The sold-out ticketStamped and kept. 
The descent ticketAdmit one, downwards. 
The back of the recordThe side nobody photographs. 
A ticket, button-sizedToo small to admit anyone. 
The return ticket, first draftSuperseded by its own portrait. 
Behind the scenesA sign for a room like this one. 
The handwritten wallWords someone painted over. 
The parchment wallA background that stayed backstage. 
Book Two, squared offA cover that lost its shape to another cover.
