My only view of her is darkly through

The filmy lens of her bedroom window,

Backlit by a low light beside her bed,

The frame of reference a dim black

And white of distance and deception,

Too small to be certain of more than

The shadowy intimacy of  bare shoulders,

The soft sighing her gown must make

As she crosses stage-left to stage-right,

Sultry in silk and smoke, blonde as

The film noir goddess whose name

I never remember, more mysterious

And desirable for my not knowing,

In love with her flickering image,

The sudden dark denouement.