Right Now
We are on the tricky slope
Of talk, as you urge me to
Say what I am feeling right
Now.
Right now, my darling, We are making love, right
Now, we are feeding our hunger For certainty against dust, right
Now, my hands are pouring Musk into your hair, right
Now, our bodies are conversing in A language they both know, right
Now, your right eyelash is fluttering against My right shoulder like a raven’s wing, right
Now, this black cab is driving Into London’s thin rain, right
Now eternity is flashing by me, and is Falling over your cheeks as tears, right Now.
Notes: As I was reading a volume on the subject of Photojournalism late last night, I came upon an article on how photo spreads are organized, featuring some stunning photographs of Brian Brake on Indian monsoons that were published in the Life Magazine. Among all these photographs, there was that of woman with her face turned to the rain in ecstatic and peaceful relief.
And I was looking at this photograph; my thoughts turned to a Macedonian movie, which I had watched perhaps a year ago, titled “Before The Rain”. The main character of this movie happens to be a photojournalist, who is putting his cameras away after shooting the Bosnian genocide. He comes to London with his last roll of film on which he had caught an execution, which had happened because as he was talking to a Serb solider, he said he would like to what this soldier thinks of a captive Bosnian crouched at their feet. The soldier says, “you take photographs as I talk”, and proceeds to shoot the Bosnian in the head.
As he is leaving a woman, who also happens to be his agent, gets into the cab as it is pulling away. And a desperate kind of lovemaking follows, set to a tune (by a band called Anastasia) that had stayed in my mind longer after.
So the above is my attempt to synthesize all this into what can pass for a poem.
My Poems
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