this describes my memory of a place where people watched art coming to life, and society conforming


Iím gripping your arm for fear Iím going to snap
Iím watching the film without sound
Intently, lips pursed like a trap
Will not remove my gaze from this spectacle
Spectacular, colours whirring
Hues transforming situations into scenes
People into characters
Night into day and back again.

Floors polished diligently with the brushes
of machines gliding back and forth
Scratch as spectators shuffle and sigh
In the floating seats holding metal hands,
Links in this room stale with privileged perfume
Lingering with the light bouncing on the screen.
I thought you were in the seat next to me
But I lost you to the night

Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 574 times
Written on 2006-09-04 at 08:47

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

Zachary P. B.
wow wow wow


you have yet again enthralled and mystified me with this write...

we quickly throw away our realities to have fantasies that make us feel better come to life...

oh what a sad thing we are... humans