In anticipation of the Oscar nominations, a poem inspired by one of the greatest directors of all time (Hitchcock), who never won an Oscar....


Woke up in the house in North By Northwest
the one that flies out over the abyss.
What part of me is on microfilm?

When you were shot at the Grand Canyon
it was a fake bullet and fake blood
but you felt light as a lifeless glove in my arms.

It feels like disequilibrium to be walking here
amidst art from London, treachery from Russia.
Violent cultures produced my favourite authors.

Before the plane comes to take me away
in the forest of small pines, the light shooting
through, may I admit that my body loves you.

My mind is quite another subject, as you suspect.
This vase is like my dress, green, lifeless.
When I betrayed my nation I lost sleep.

Existence quickly becomes memorable, sadly.
In Vienna they taught me to ride horses,
speak with an American accent: Apple Pie!

poem by Todd Swift
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