Tuesday, 24 April 2012

a seventh poem...'the movie'

We’re talking about the movie,

Together for the first time in months;

He says it was ‘okay’

‘Nothing special’,

And briefly I wonder

If he wishes I’d been with him

Right up in the back row of the arcane old theatre

Right on up there

Five seats along from the single reel movie projector

Hunkered low in his thread-loose jumper

 The pale sheen of the silver screen

Reflected in the film of his eyes

And the distance in mine.

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