John Biscello

From where she sat,

the house seemed to be

swaddled in sheer gauze,

and flickering, like a light

that was about to go out.

She considered adjusting her view

to dispel what must be an illusion,

but there was something terribly satisfying

about the polarizing effects

of her, here,

and them, there,

and what would happen, if. 

#9 from Untitled Film Poems

Image by Cindy Sherman