The Art of Cinema
Alpenglow is only the redirection of light towards
snowcaps like rosedust though some people ponder
the mischief of refractions across peaks. It rises and
falls in a valley like the cadence of voices scooped
from a Mediterranean summer haze, blushing
laze, heat-stricken and searing under my fingernails
like Arctic wafer. There is a language of light and one of
rushing water we speak round the table, smoke furling in
crumbles, eyeing the script. I watch day and night waiting
for anyone to say their lines. The other day I knocked over
a feed-reel, dust-ridden and cigarette-pressed. Loose film
unraveled in spiraling winds down the stairs, around
bunched corners, piling at my feet. I could see you in a
Spaghetti Western: hair flying, fingers bumbling. Smiling
that movie star smile.
Author:Â
Yejin Suh is a New Jersey high school student who has been recognized by the Scholastic Awards and The Live Poets’ Society. She likes pretzel goldfish and heist movies.
