When we think of ourselves
as critical viewers,
nothing that's
out there can
shock us anymore.
Fingering apocalypse,
sniffing fresh
collapse,
watching lurid
bombs fall—we'll thumb our lip
and wonder
is this serious
film a real
Oscar contender?
And we'll wait
(we've learned
how by now)
for that lull
before the credits roll
to skillfully allow
our drawn appearance
to unbound,
hoping—
now that the danger
of hurt is averted,
now that this crisis
of faith is resolved—
the usual combination
of darkness
and music
will swirl up around us
as a few chosen
names scroll,
leaving us
safe, and quite
anonymous enough,
as soon as we're
recomposed, to get up
and go.
