Untitled Document

This is not my life, she said
Liam Guilar

Conscripted body double in a foreign film,
she cannot read the script, so merely waits.
Marlene Dietrich on a chair, with hat .
Rain beating time upon the windowpane .

There is no street beyond the set for her to watch.
But in the non-existent city,
where some Bogart is heroic once again,
the fake light fades to hint at dusk.

(A car door slams. Down several flights
of ill-lit stairs, sad looking men
loosen their ties. Her posters greet them,
like a mantis in their stale bed sitting rooms.

That knowing smile. Those eyes that haunt
their repetitious dreams. The way cold street light
colours skin upon a threadbare sheet.
The way that she'd unpin her hair.)

The ancient lift clanks to announce: He's on His way .
Beneath the inefficient light, the shadows
hint at rooms no one has bothered to define.
Spy story? Or a love affair that's doomed?

(The smell of Gaulois permeates the air.
So, yes, this must be Europe ; It looks like wine
inside the glass. The table's laid
for two. Bread, cheese, a knife.)

Or just another bit part in a splatter film?
Her gaze now lingers on the shining blade.
Her technicoloured death may well look faked,
her sense of outrage will be unrehearsed.

She'll know if she is Victim or Reward,
after the footsteps stop; after the handle turns.

Liam Guilar was born in Coventry , England and moved to Australia in 1986. He has two collections published, The Poet's Confession , a chapbook, and an award winning book called I'll Howl Before you Bury Me, available from Interactive Press. Selections and reviews at: http://www.ipoz.biz/titles/howl.htm