...after Robert Wiene’s ”The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920)
Dislodged from the cabinet
I dance upon the worlds unbalanced surfaces.
Above the spotlights hiss
like a quire of fork-tongued devils.
This act is a vaudevillian dream
dead upon arrival—
the audience is not laughing,
they’re not even slightly amused.
They riot outside my cabinet door
with torches and pitchforks.
Poem for Santi
...after Guillermo Del Toro’s “The Devil’s Backbone” (2001)
From beneath amber water
blood rises from his fractured forehead—
that fills the hallways caked in sand.
From the safety of shadows
he watches living versions of himself
play ball around the bomb
that stands dormant
at the centre of the courtyard—
its violet ghost passed to the man
who brought you
to this low, dark edge of life.
...after Ari Aster’s “Midsommar” (2018)
Pass your scream
from mouth to mouth.
Flowers sprout from the crown
like little fires —
bright enough to scorch skin,
to burn grief down to ash.
Lay in the rubble and watch
grief’s black smoke
rise and vanish.