The gut is a cavern, a space
opera in an amphitheater, its stars
flicker dimly, illuminate an audience
of crumbs and empty wrappers.
This is high art, drama played
out by experts in physical
performance, Grotowski made
gluttonous, poor no more.
This stage only runs on matinees
and the curtain never closes,
ensuring a lethargic audience
and overworked players,
all with wide, dinner plate eyes,
watching on, ready for the rest.