Peking Drama

With skirl of bamboo pipes and strident strings From the wings the heroine appears,

Quivering forth on tiny broidered shoes.

—

The role Lotus Cloud in Tiger Lord Deposed. Cheers are hushed. The lady sings, advances, And every motion is a dance.

Wedged on the wooden bench

I quickly cross my knees and lean Far forward lest my neighbors sense

My growing ecstasy.

Pale blue the molded satin trousers, Flaring at the calf.

Each dainty step sets swaying

Deep fringes on a crimson sash. Green jade brocade the jacket,

Silver scarf about the head,

Surmounting bangs and spangled ear-rings, New-moon brows and rouged eye-lids.

Fragile fingers flutter, bosom sings,

And thousands sigh—but !

Burn with desire.

Carved alabaster hands create symbolic legends,

Stitching silk in soaring arcs;

Pouring poisoned wine in porcelain

From slender silver spout for Tiger Lord;

Combing with exquisite grace

The mother's silver hair.

Clowning servants tumble on in motley,

Tiger Lord swaggers, staggers,

Flouncing shaggy beard. But I

Have eyes only for Lotus Cloud.

Act five: a battle, flight by boat; pursuit By Tiger Lord and his cohorts.

Now in disheveled peasant guise

Now flowing gray monastic robe, the Lady Moves from grief to triumph. Curtain. Others clap, tie their mufflers and depart

To dream of Lotus Cloud. Not I!

For Lotus is my love in a drama yet to come; And I sit and smile, and wait for his return.

A.F.

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