Light and Dark
The city’s neon shines on everything,
Mirrors on the dancehall girls’ top hats
the way pain flashes through parts of the body
a sense of vertigo. This is prewar, inky black
like a poltergeist in the sweeping spotlight,
or daylight pooling like phosphorescence
in the grim canyon of boarding houses,
at the end of the street, doors opening and closing:
the dime in the gutter, the music of rain.
on stage before the black suits, the whole world is ugly.
dissects the film into pieces, like amputated limbs.
soft at the edges like feathers,
Talent is a stooge for greed.
© James Cihlar, 2012