Without a Script

Not a public execution, I've no right to stand
with sword in hand, your neck at my feet
I take the right, make no excuses
Uncredentialed, it's just the way it is
So many ghosts in life, I'm just one more

Following from day to night and back again
there's no need to slash at one another
My Douglas Fairbanks leaps a balcony
Meets your Errol Flynn, knife clenched in teeth
Somehow never masking that famous smile

How does he do it? How do we and they?
Without rehearsal, no cut and no retakes?
I don't want all your life and time, just all of you
when we're together, but ghosts get in the way
fighting up and down the staircase of our minds

Not stumbling, as we do, but coming point to point,
Thrust and parry, in endless choreography
Your sword nicks me, high across the chest
Blood soaks toward my heart, we come together
face to face, conceding one another's pain

Then spring apart, my blade slits the purple silk
Above your breast, exposes, barely touches skin
I'm bleeding, you're unmarked, catching breath
Am I above you on the stair? Can't recall the script
Is this the scene, the time you take my life?

Not your neck that's at my feet, but mine
How can it be, my hand holds the blade?
Lens pulls back, long shot in soft focus
One stroke, then just another of the ghosts
Untitled, unrehearsed, without a script.