MAKING ‘MY VICIOUS ANGEL’
that day lucia hung above caroline like a burnt and broken bird and we understood the notion of gravity for the first time and that the cage had to be as high and as dangerous as we could make it.
so it grew another metre.lucia laughed and we knew she was up for it. caroline tried to laugh but she was bound to that hospital bed so brutally and her mind had absorded the idea of paralysis to the point where she could only get out her lines for the day and stagger home.
i hear the sounds of the accordion mimicking human breathing and the cello making fire.
i hear the single words of dialogue clashing and crashing against each other like the souls of those two sisters, one dead trying to find a re entry point, one barely alive trying to escape memory.
i see two little girls lighting a flare to bring their sailor daddy home and a burning pet parrot indicating an innocent plan gone awry.
i go out for lunch and the port is there waiting for me like a scene from the play. my sandwich is soggy and it is too hot and my coffee is a bit watery and i feel like crying because the play is making me really sad.