OPERATIC GLOW

In the lusterless darkness
of the tense orchestra pit
you played first violin
in the Barber of Seville
that hot summer
you crashed on a four poster bed
with a four walled tiny space
as Sunday bells were heard
and the running of the bulls
blocked the dusty roads
moved Dali's print
in the thickest hour of morning
when exile deserted you
in a burnt lamplight halo
by the student courtyard
in downpours of rain
through a mindful mirror's
eye over the soprano voice
rehearsing the subtle parts
for the next day opening
under the heavy black sky
of the black caped moon.