The Cinematheque

Poem

There are thoughts I have

I cannot share until I am

Caught in your eyelash to 

Face a pupil’s supernova



I sit like a circus bear 

Freed and fammished in an empty cinema

Alone because it suits my scars 

In my box of concessions

I can sense a taste of humor



If you were here in explicit light

I may beg you remove all threads and 

Cease my southern breath

So you can smoke like noir 

Behind a screen of suspicious fire 



The bare seats left to my right 

Rows of hangdogs, howl a soft score 

I sketch the wind on my ticket and admit 

One day I will act out something worth

Your time