Like in the Movies

by Natasha Bailey

The reel flickered on the screen, that searing film
a hole in the linen, the maddened stain reaching out
the rude reek of warped plastic
paper bathed in soupy acid
the bulb uncovered, utter chillness
revealed to an eye’s helpless stare.
Reaching out, that stunning stain, hallucinatory
the sheets, minds, trials all burning.
“They hunted him like a deer”, they say.
Detached tape, turning and turning,
click, clack
the robot ear, automatically indifferent,