You are a haphazard movie:
A plot thick, contorted,
And in shuffled order.
Everything you do
Translates
To quick, brilliant flashes
Of television blue
On the walls
Of my dark room.
Here, is the gratuitous
Love scene,
A spot of violence,
An unkind word,
A folly,
A jest,
A climax,
The probable end:
Blood
And a bit of wine
To taste
Or be confused
As it settles
Into the carpet.
End credits.
No comments:
Post a Comment