a poem by Laura McCullough

This Is Not An Audition

I was auditioning for The Wizard of Oz,
and you know what part I wanted. The other actors,
my friends, kept mentioning my wild hair, grown wilder
as I've aged, my fierce mouth, the extent to which
you can always see my teeth.

But I want to be Dorothy, I whined, and soon, we were
on stage, being judged, and the director kept nodding
and smiling and whispering--you know where this is going--
and I knew what role they thought me best for, and yes,
it suddenly made sense.

I've worked hard to be both wicked and illicit,
always on the edge of my own dying, a flame near
its wick, the wax spilling over and ruining everything.

Everything will be wrecked in the end; burn me well
or drown me now, please.

© by Laura McCullough

Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010