Rebecca is a comet, she collides with a poem
about the realist movement in Italian cinema.
I get it. I think there were many great films.
Rebecca tastes of the beach at midnight I
watch wave by wave wave by in the blue of her eyes.
I lick her legs. Rebecca is not a comet.
Rebecca lives with a paper model, she drips light
onto reels, her passion for pearl is peach (she says)
pistachio always tastes like the moon.
Charlie Baylis is the poetry editor of Review 31. He has published two pamphlets: Elizabeth (Agave Press) and hilda doolittle´s carl jung t-shirt (Erbacce).
This article appears in the 27 Jun 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Germany, alone