After Caribbean Sea, Jamaica (1980)
By Hiroshi Sugimoto
Every great film
needs a star, a stillness,
an opaque notion
that the beady brown eyes
in the close-up are calling
all the starving maws
to the table, a table
absent every form of flesh,
littered with light;
a sense that the roof-beating
rain outside the window
is a dream-song
in an ice cream parlor,
a makeshift raft overflowing
with peaches and sage.
That stillness is in everything
if you listen hard enough,
whispering beneath the waves
like birdsong in the background
of a shallow mourning.