Lost Vampire Movies

A poem by Michael Blackburn

LOST VAMPIRE MOVIES

1

I carried it
like a lost
vampire movie
all night quiet
like a shadow
an angel
then I lost it
the years passed

2

looking for stories
a story of his own
each one somehow crucial
in this case not original
a recurring urban myth
the man follows a falling beam
life is futile
he simply walks
starts a new life 'Life
could be a falling beam'
an idea that underpins his life

3

he slept and meditated
he had learned
drifted out
brushed past the awed girl
wandered
returned to the womb
was lost

4

as soon as she was introduced
she began a story:
gold mine in a Ghost Town
discarded by the old miners
a ladder down a shaft
enough ore to spend in the evening
Ghost Town life
The old saloon
and a crystal chandelier
wealth came first
on ten dollars a day
my artist friends come and live with this plan
During the war
sick surrealists sail back
I invited all those who want me.
But the ship sank

5

lying on the sofa
her feet up in the air
head down
contrary to the rules
thick brown woolly hair
compact and simple face
blue trousers red sweater
large unmoving black eyes
a slightly imbecile expression
I warn you it's bad today

6

I cannot stay
I have not slept
I am not myself
I am afraid of myself
I had not time
time to draw back
felt the tumultuous beating
she murmured
suddenly she pointed
out of the room
open, terrible, menacing
I heard a faint fluttering
those terrible eyes
those lips
look at those eyes
the next day
I fainted
regained consciousness
we were on our way

7

we know that we are going
only one thing we know
the rest is mere guesswork
we guess wrong
we grope our way through
one day to another
to our destiny
too far away
fate lies in ourselves
the better for us
it is a waste of time

8

what is
what day
what is
what country
what city
what
please
what are
what do
and this
repeat
take a
write a
here

9

an hour later
in the kitchen
baking the bread
I would not mind the smell
I rather liked it
my bed was already cold
stout timber
protection against the cold
the snow of winter
clothes and furs neatly hung
his wife's winter furs
her silk bodice with silver thread
tippet of squirrel-skin
lace, red leather belt
we climbed down
said it did not matter
sat down to a splendid supper
home-made bread
and home-brewed ale
two old folk

10

I lose it all the time
I find it again
then I lose it
because I believe in chance
the only way I can advance
is to move
from chance to chance

© Michael Blackburn, 2007