We harvest loose ends, pray our children still believe
they're invicible, if only for a while;
let them remain unaware of our blunders,
our frequent leaps of faith, our way
of composing order as we go.

I spent several hours late last night
stumbling in the dark backstage,
trying to figure out why I’d been cast
as Baba Yaga in Swan Lake (Swan Lake?)
and wondering why I had never bothered
to memorize my lines.