Call backs for the Importance of Being Ernest were today and having sat through two days of complete panic in the theater departement, this poem is my way of forgeting it. I have a lot of respect for everyone who auditioned, but for everyone's peace of mind, I'm glad they don't happen that often.
I hope I get in
I hope I get in
Oh I really hope I get in.
Whispers fill the hall,
Thousands of voices
Working in concert.
Prayers to Dionysus, to their mothers, to their friends.
Please god let me get in.
They pace in circles,
Overlapping but never interrupting.
Each lost in their own private world.
He is talking to an old teacher,
Her to her former boyfriend.
They catch eyes.
She smiles shakily.
“Break a leg.”
The stage is pitch black,
The supplicants line up on its edge.
Their whispering never stops
Even here their pleading is not done.
They begin.
A trembling girl steps forward.
She says her speech,
Her eyes fixed above the balding head.
HE is staring at her,
And now HE is writing.
Her eyes waver to the pencil and she stutters.
HE looks at her.
She is frozen in the limelight.
An eternity passes in absolute silence.
There is reverence behind her,
Remembrance of when they too broke the rule.
One must never look at HIM. | 
