the myth of jackie

the myth of jackie
the green grass and fat trees and your sad drunk eye on me
how we pass in flashes
the burning snapshots in my backrooms
and the unbearably thick smoke
hiding my sluggish heart
how seductive they are those strings of smoke
like endless printouts reflected in my shifting eyes
tracing you as if i could really see you that way
in the backlit outlines of a passion
a longing
funerals & tragedy
my myth in full view within that bulky snap of the shutter
doors opening light in
your brilliant shape burning through my screens
and that safety lock around your finger with its golden ray like a power current
into the backbone of my fear
my mechanical close-down shining beautifully and just and closing
us right down into the backwater of my dreams of green green grass and fat
full trees
and your soft beauty inside-out with your faraway sadness which
i want to revive and mend
if only i could trust my eyes and hands
to be gentle and sure on you
and not melt away in the din
in this poem
my face looking at itself
its own breathtaking myth of truth & beauty exposed and projected onto
itself
like a circular plot traced in its own ink
waiting for you to fill it conduct it
counter it

will you come
and who will you be?

~Blahnik