Finite to fail, but infinite to venture

(a play in verse)

Dramatis Personae

a: girl, nominalist. Lover of b.

b: boy, reliquarian. Lover of a.
c: leaf, fresh-fallen.
d: worm, old.

The Scene: Emily Dickinson’s Grave. Amherst, Massachusetts. Autumn.

I.1
Enter a, b, c, d.

[c, d are hidden, watching.]

a: I see nothing famous in these bones.

b: However, even if they weren’t cold,
You wouldn’t feel a thing; when I am old
I’ll be half-buried long before.
a: [smiles] Stones
On top, and flowers: to ease your sniffly groans.
b: [motions to grave] But hidden here are hands that once could fold
The world, and slip it in a pocket – rolled
You up tightly, too.
a: In absent moans.
Exeunt a, b.

c: She’s right. These plots are much the same; were they
Lacking letters, I’d be lost.
d: They sow
This parcel scarcely.
c: The trees still sway.
d: Thinking they digest themselves, yet grow
from what I make of this. [motions to grave]
c: Then, eat your way.
[d eats a hole in c]
Exeunt c, d.
Finis.