I wonder,
if you walked the empty stage,
of the Newmark Theatre,
hearing, ghosts singing,
calling out your name,
a choir of footsteps,
rhythmically answering,
gloria, gloria.
Did you turn around,
to see if anyone was there?
Or did you continue walking up
and down dusting awake the aisles,
counting the notes in your palms-
were they all there?
When you felt his hand on your shoulder,
whispering, as he always has,
in your ear, a,
gloria, gloria,
I wonder then,
what you did?
How did you know,
it was him?
gloria, gloria,
deo.
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