In a Darkened Theater

So soft soft

the communal rustling

in the dark,

bobbing and weaving.

The hushing coughs

of squeaking souls.

We sit in our

saturating silences

with so much air

it makes me yawn,

in a sleepless way

as we are all here.

Some manifestation

of our own humankind.

The adhesion of

our fleshy fingers

to the blackened 

outlines and shadows

far off, these whispers

of who were can be in the

empty spaces

between.

We, the empty

people

with voids somewhere-

the filling of them in a

coralling manner.

Our bodies situated

in our quaint crooked rows

eyes on the prize

we cannot see

through the veils.

Combined breathing 

leaves such 

an impact on the soul.