The Soul Of This Poem Is My Blood Sugar, Or Eating In The Small Room

The Soul Of This Poem Is My Blood Sugar, Or Eating In The Small Room


for John Cassavetes

 

Tippi Hedren would be more nonplussed than me,

or you—I can’t remember who is who—but she’s playing herself,

hosting Dinner and a MovieThe Birds on cable, see?

It’s the first time she’s worked in ages—who’d blame her?

                                                                                            A chance

like Hitchcock afforded

only comes along once, sometimes,

and who needs more than that to ruin a career?

Not established like Stewart, or typecast like Perkins or Leigh,

she can still be counted on for earnest.

                                                            But sincere is no kind of disguise;

it’s hard to know who’s on the level in this biz.

You need to understand:

everything that’s in our frame

isn’t all we’re here for.

                                    A blood disease,

has to do with sugar,