Poem: Der Rosenkavalier

 

Der Rosenkavalier

 

four hours of geometric hats

wider than absurd:

clowns, dandies, maskers,

cutpurses dressed like prunes,

orbiting Alice Coote in the trouser role

while she kisses Sophie,

kisses the Marschallin,

sapphic pianissimo

cresting to arias on diva pouts.

 

the boorish Baron

galumphing after skirts,

froward madman,

cannot thwart the spell of the rose.

when petals gleam from tufted stars,

Sophie and Octavian to emblazon and bless,

it enraptures the gleeful audience. 

 

comical evil, orchestral sobs, 

garish menageries, yes,

the opera reeks of farce,

and yet it melts away 

in waltzes from the rose.

without such lovely blossom, 

the plot languishes.

because of it, frissons and sighs

on the way home.

 

 ============

7/26 ... changed some words

8/11/24 eds

Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles, 2005
me and Kit