After VINCENZO BELLINI’s I Puritani
Maybe it was Elvira,
the juxtaposition of her grief,
descending
into madness,
as I discovered my ex
had found someone new.
I thought, how quickly
men seem to change their hearts.
I wouldn’t stay for Act III.
Exiting the concourse, a man approached me,
asked for my ticket, my voucher,
so he could see the final act.
It was so simple, his gratitude,
his suit for the occasion, his smile.
At dinner, my tears fell
into a bowl of seafood risotto.
Maybe it was the opera, the reason
that I found myself
overwhelmed with the desire
to sing.