Sunday, 10 March 2024

She Moves Between the Frames

 



She’s in every film they ever made

If you know where to pause

I’ve seen her shape a thousand times but I know

I’ve missed a hundred thousand more


A luminous moment, a beautiful fragment

Among the extras in the crowds

Almost impossible to catch, before she slips 

Between the frames

Disappears into the background


I don’t know how I know her

She always wears a different face

But when I see her it’s a moment of clarity

Salt water and insanity

Cresting and crashing through

like the breaking of a wave


Frames drop and beads of water burst 

Aquamarine against the sun

And she’s there, stretched like melting toffee

Reclining, like a lizard, in the afternoon

Fuzzy contrasts in gold and reds and blues

A 16 millimetre study in oversaturated hues


Another day she comes in Nosferatu shapes

Flickering through falling rain

In the silvers and shivers of a European street

A moment in monochrome, between shadow and grey

100 years out of time

Of maybe just wilfully arty and New Wave


And I live for the moments when I catch one of her glances

When she looks, from the corner of her eye

Looking straight through the screen, 

Across the Z-axis

A heart attack line drawn from her eye to mine


She can’t be caught

Stare too long and the image slips

And she dissolves

The celluloid bubbles and the image burns

She only makes sense from a distance

Only takes shape when she’s in motion

And let’s you gaze, for one eighth of one second

Into the beauty

Of her world





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