Now Showing

by Bruce McRae

A movie I’m not meant to understand.

A silent film, but in a foreign language,

its sub-​​titles melting as if in a downpour,

and just the noise of the ancient projector,

with just myself in this empty cinema,

a cold hand in the buttery popcorn

and a sense that I might be missing something,

something important, but I’ll be stuffed

if I can tell you what it is at the moment.

On the mercurial screen ghostly figures

go about the business of fading from memory.

The fire curtain flutters purposelessly,

at least not for any reason I can think of,

and the critics be damned …

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s