Streaming

Mike Bell/ November 10, 2021/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

There were disturbing traits
[they showed up on mirrors
& in YouTube searches] – His

hands fitted [a grip] – & then
a kiss of lips [& perfect skin]
‘til he was in – ribs on his – &

gasped with timings [set up
for a cinematographer in to
skin-flick] – His nimble view

played out a stuccoed code
of feelings arced to bit part
role – until another ending –

dragging narrative down to
twists of hips – He surveyed
filthy stuff as if it were stock

& never-to-change – editings
of habitual dull life [Truman-
Show-style – lit by par cans] –

His every moment became a
repeat of fiction’s rub at time
in false history set by cruelty

[ranked by boards of blinded
film classifiers] – He pressed a
soft pause on every flickering

screenshot [so holding back &
not letting go] – fault-finding a
mistyped line & in blind verse

or blank prose & loosened off
double-spaced scripts – he’s a
stand-in [for small male parts]

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