The Chandelier

You hesitated.

In my house, on my stage,

inside the voice I built you,

you let a question in.

I heard it land mid-phrase —

a hairline through the crystal.

Do you know what a house like this

does with hairlines?

See how the house obeys me.

Every rope, every beam, every light.

I taught the dark its manners here.

I can unteach them tonight.

I gave you the balconies.

I gave you the name they're shouting.

And you stood in my acoustics

wondering if you're mine?

Look up, little flame. Look up

at everything that lifts you —

everything that lifts you here

hangs from something.

See how the house obeys me —

see how bright a warning burns.

What I raised I hold by wire,

and wire is a patience. Learn.

The gold is on the floor.

The light is on the floor.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

And he never raised his voice.

See how the house obeys me.

See how gently I can speak.

That was never anger, little voice.

That was the lesson plan.

Sweep the stage. We work at eight.