Here’s to you
Brown frayed blob
In the center of
A foggy, yellow tinted
Cylindrical puck
That could easily be mistaken for
Fossilized excrement.
You souvenir from
My mother’s ushering days
At a Baltimore theater in the round
While Mr. Morse expertly
Played J. Pierpont Finch
And deposited
His cigar
Residue
On cue
On a ledge
Each night
Until my mother
Worked up the might
To nab you and use
Her little machine
To preserve you.
Now you sit
Amongst my
Other baubles
And knick-knacks
You oddity
Of an heirloom
From a bygone era
Snatched in
Youthful spontaneity
My one small relic
Bequeathed from a theater kid
that has since grown
connecting me
To a legend of the great white way
Who most of my generation
has never heard of.
***
Gail Bello is from Waltham Massachusetts. She is a recent BFA grad who writes poetry and plays. She is a Co-editor at Crow Name Studios and a contributing writer for On Stage Blog. She is looking forward to whatever comes next with a positive and hopeful heart. She is thrilled and honored to be published in Rejection Letters. Find her previous publications at https://thaumaturgedramaturge.wordpress.com and follow her on Twitter @AquajadeGail.
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