ABSENTEE BALLET

6 2 Y A B S E N T E E B A L L E T B O R I S D R A L Y U K Today I cast my absentee ballet. Recast, I mean. It’s in its umpteenth season. I’ve added parts. I add parts every day. The house lights dim and the new dancers breeze in – so like the wispy, skeletal remains of fallen leaves, those bare and brittle veins. They take position, pirouette, jeté. How could I turn a single one away? And so it grows: a cast of thousands now. The stage boards creak beneath tiptoeing figures of memory. I whistle to the riggers: the curtain drops. Time for a final bow. Each day I scour the papers for reviews, but find obituaries, crosswords, and old news. ...