Last night I saw Andrei Tarkovsky‘s film “The Mirror” at the Harvard Film Archive. This morning, as I was workin in my journal, it brought a poem:
On Seeing Tarkovsky’s “The Mirror”
The cast of blue light on pale
blue walls;
transparent blue water colliding
on flickering
blue skin,
flecked with dark,
piercing
black like
blue moles;
thin blue shadows…
The moment ends.
The lights raise.
I stutter
out into winter’s cold.
A thousand tattered specks
of stars supervise
ice sharp snow shards.
There is no blue.
Only the colors
of midnight
in the city.
