Celluloid Sacrifice

I am stuck passing though the frames
of a bizarre and fragmented
film from the 1970s,
a glittery tapestry of hair awaits

It is a science-fiction, dystopian
love story mixed together
in a metaphysical mystery
that spills out over the dance floor

Too much smoking in between the lines,
too much fake blood on the leather
and shag carpeting,
I can only speak through a synthesizer

Intermission brings relief.
Can you hear me? Someone come
and edit me out of this twisted oeuvre,
if I stay, it will be exploitation

Ben Nardollili


Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Inwood Indiana, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.

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