Scene

Silver nitrate melodrama;
a scene, a street somewhere,
a coffee house,
an undyed zombie stands outside,
crooked phalanges
beckon customers inside.

The band plays melancholy
three four music as people
promenade their Sunday best,
then a tango vamp,
enter a man in a bowler hat.
Chaplin takes the menu,
the zombie’s  hand
sits in his detached;
unseen the foley artist
rattles stones…
Fade to black.

Iris opens,
Chaplin’s eyes widen
filling the screen
then they are swallowed
by his mouth opening,
a silent scream;
the foley artist
scrapes his nails
across a sheet of metal.

Iris shuts.

Today, you will find many wonderful poems over at d’Verse Poetry  where the prompt is silent movies.

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16 thoughts on “Scene

  1. Definitely the trailer for quite a film here, felt like I was sitting in the dark watching it, not reading it. Bringing the dead back to life never seems to work out well, does it? Loved it.

  2. I love this part, but I think you meant “scrapes”: “the foley artist
    scraps his nails”

    Your opening stanza is killer:
    Silver nitrate melodrama;
    a scene, a street somewhere,
    a coffee house,
    an undyed zombie stands outside,
    crooked phalanges
    beckon customers inside.

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