← v12n2, Fall 2013
Poetry · Volume 12, Number 2

[In London, 1973, watching Ultimo Tango a Parigi]

[]

In London, 1973, watching Ultimo Tango a Parigi

From the theater’s balcony, might I not have

Seen you through smoke broken by

The light from the projector, or among those others

Who walked out into humidity after Paul, 48, is shot

And Jeanne, 19, holds the gun she fired, and

Yet I drop from another day, the air dieselized

And silted with Thames water and the near-knowledge

That edges are best kept edgy, the edge of the street

Where I fall into traffic, the remembered black

And white buzzing in living rooms of Edge

Of Night, or the way the blinded Earl of Gloucester

Jumps off the edge of the cliff and dies on

The way down, crumpled into nothingness,

And Marlon Brando also years after weighing in

At twice what I weigh, weighted down, thirty

Years earlier crumpling on the Parisian balcony, his

Last act sticking chewing gum under the railing,

And the page I am reading turns itself, and

The trellis that holds up the rows of grapes

Tumbles over, of its own free will and decay,

Wooden to pieces, stabbed by weather, heart

Impaled by what isn’t heart, for a couple

Of hours in the darkness, the time it takes

For night to take hold, when I want the lights

Out or just down for a moment, hand ready on the switch.