One Night in the World War Theatre

expanse of shorelines on this
broken glass beach.
The stage is yawning at the only
actors remaining gunshy.
 
Lights and costumes of gas.
Hand grenades and harmonies,
submarines and scenery,
wilderness and wine glass;
we perch, we are entertained,
we drink.
 
Take a bow, an opened skull,
let the set fade to film.
The dark sentiments sing a song
of sweet simple melancholy,
a last explosion.