Jane Draycott

Silent Movie

 

The scene requires you to cry and you want to.
What you need is buried somewhere
deep in the woods by the lakeside, stored

 

in the sap or lodged in the branches there
between shoulder and rib-cage when you move
like this or carry your hand to your mouth.

 

It helps to imagine some music inside you,
your own music eaten alone in the past
maybe or the cold grey song of a stranger.

 

What works best is a change in the weather –
no more talk of picnics on the little sandy beach,
just armies of cloud rolling in again noiselessly.

 

 

Sign Up to our newsletter

Receive free articles, highlights from the archive, news, details of prizes, and much more.

Follow Literary Review on Twitter

  • Last Tweets

    • 'The characters in many of these stories are trapped in the obsessive present tense of their own thoughts; in the m… ,
    • 'Libraries, for much of their existence, have embodied in microcosm many of the characteristics of the totalitarian… ,
    • 'Moss and Cynthia buy several properties through which to launder their ill-gotten gains, take lots of drugs, have… ,
    • 'Never mind the imperial cult. This is the cult of Boris. What happened to Rome?' From the LR archive:… ,
    • Thirty-two years ago this month, we published Muriel Spark's short story, 'A Playhouse Called Remarkable' Read it… ,
    • Time travel, bicycles and white horses populate @WomackPhilip's roundup of children's books by @marcussedgwick,… ,
    • RT : Joanna Kavenna’s ‘Cooking with Trotsky’s Frying Pan’ in June’s is the most well written and interesting… ,