Mustardseed’s Ambush

Four years of stage training
Wrapped around my waist
In a layer of green gauze.

It’s not easy to watch
How paper petals land on Titania’s hair,
While you’re just a prancing fairy.

A rose for Titania — and a broken twig for me.

I could’ve ripped off her cellophane wings
Or blown my nose into Oberon’s cape.

For now the bathroom mirror
Is my most faithful audience.