The red curtain is drawn aside
the people’s eyes all open wide
The opera master holds a knife
At the throat of his own wife.
She struggles crying out his name
but her excuses sound so lame
“We kissed to practice for this play”
“You kissed and then went all the way.”
His words come rasping from his throat
“I killed that man, his body floats,
but just today I got this note
from one who saw you on his boat.”
Then crimson splashed across the set
“My life is over, still, not yet,
and you must pay your final debt”
The people roared, their palette’s wet.
Her mouth still moves, her struggles cease
her eyes roll back, her form at ease
and when her body lay deceased
he recognized she’d found some peace.
This fact brought anger to his eyes
she’d left him here to agonize
he sat and wiped his bloody knife
and held the body of his wife.
The postman called and brought a note
the opera master read, I quote
Sir, I’ve had a change of heart
I tried to rip you two apart.
I love one who is not mine
to taste that wine, oh so divine
but she loves you and told me so
I tried my best but she said no.
Samantha Jayne Frost
