Buzzflash
del.icio.us
Digg
Facebook
Newsvine
Reddit
Those first-nights when I see my charge's panic,
And, in quick whispers, slip him mislaid lines,
Untangled recognition scenes will light
A face, inflected sense revive a flagging
Voice; and my inner rating service smiles.
No. No, the program never credits Prompter.
The same as nursing, ours is a self-reliant
Calling regarded as its own reward...
Although, in fairness, the brightest stars remember
To breathe a private "thank you" at the curtain.
Just like a turntable set, sight lines shiftedv
The day I gazed at that smooth slab of his--
The Unknown Soldier, who then began to prompt:
Mobilized for an afterlife of marble,
I'm bunked here in a tomb not granted those
Subscribe Now!
The only way to read this article and the full contents of each week's issue of The Nation online is by subscribing to the magazine. Subscribe now and read this article -- and every article published since for the past five years -- right now.
There's no obligation -- try The Nation for four weeks free.
- Get The Nation at home (and online!) for 75 cents a week!
- If you like this article, consider making a donation to The Nation.
