'Backstage' and 'Steel Magnolias', by Leah Browning
Backstage
In the dark
in the wings
before the curtain parts
or rises
the set is concealed:
a sofa and chairs
side tables and tall green plants
and on the wallpapered back walls
windows and French doors
and a handful of paintings and decorative objects
which have not yet been illuminated
and remain in shadow only outlines;
the audience is still
getting settled
rustling as they
find their seats
and take off their coats
talking about
the traffic on the ride over
or the renovations
to the particular theatre
around them
during this temporary intermission
from their own lives;
now that the house
is open
I prepare to cross
the boards of the stage
into this a skeleton of a life
and sometimes my pulse is racing
in the dark
in the wings
before the curtain parts
or rises.
Steel Magnolias
They brought in salon chairs
and hooked up water
so that I could wash a woman’s hair
in an authentic shampoo bowl
live on stage.
The play sold out
and they had to add
more nights.
I arrived at the theatre
early, ready for makeup.
In real life, I was
the youngest of the
cast, still a student,
and I sometimes brought
a bag full of textbooks.
On stage, I was a stylist,
always standing;
I wore two blonde wigs,
and by the end of the play,
a slim wedding band.
In just over two hours,
the character I played
built a whole new life.
I was sometimes impatient,
waiting for mine to begin.
Back at school, while the play
was still in rehearsals, I performed
in a musical. On opening night,
the director and the rest of the cast
sent me a dozen red roses.
More of my life is over now,
and I understand
how generous they were
with me, and how rare
that can be in this world.
At the end of every performance,
we held hands
and bowed low in front of the audience.
It was hot and loud.
We were all still alive then.
Soon the crew will dim the lights.
Backstage, we remove our costumes and makeup,
lingering a little before we go our separate ways.
Perhaps we are there now, if you believe in such things:
sitting in front of a wide bank of mirrors in the dressing room.
Leah Browning is the author of Two Good Ears and Loud Snow, a pair of flash fiction mini-books published by Silent Station Press, and When the Sun Comes Out After Three Days of Rain, a collection of poetry published by Kelsay Books. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in Harpur Palate, Four Way Review, Flock, The Threepenny Review, Superstition Review, Santa Ana River Review, The Broadkill Review, Valparaiso Fiction Review, Necessary Fiction, The Petigru Review, Parhelion Literary Magazine, Newfound, Terrain.org, Belletrist Magazine, Tipton Poetry Journal, Oyster River Pages, Poetry South, The Stillwater Review, and other literary journals and anthologies. In addition to writing, Browning has edited the Apple Valley Review since 2005.
Leah Browning in “Steel Magnolias”