A still from episode 4 in season 6 of The Americans, in which Philip (Matthew Rhys) line dances to the tune of Eddie Rabbitt's “Drivin’ My Life Away”. Rhys later described the day of the shoot as "my worst day on The Americans".
I just want to die at that moment in
The Americans when Matthew Rhys (or
should I say Philip,a Russian double-
agent whose actual name is Mischa
line dances in a crowded country &
western bar somewhere in Virginia,
alone but somehow at home, at last.
Is it something about his careful joy,
or his brand-new, clunky suede boots?
Thumbs hooked in the too-tight jeans,
the hand claps, swivels, furtive glances?
Whatever the reason, I’ll die right here,
thx. The instant Mischa turns to see
an American woman coax her husband
(who could be Benjamin Netanyahu
onto the dance floor, oh-so-reluctant,
we realize something about dancing &
about love, how some just don’t get it
(unlike Mischa, who knows the moves,
who has found his place, here, at last.
Kill me so I don’t have to live beyond
this scene, in which lines fall into place,
in which bodies become honky-tonk,
in which music becomes lines of words.
I don’t mind being strangled or shot,
as long as Mischa’s the one doing it, &
like I said, make it right after this scene,
pls & thx. Oh & Mischa: forget me when
you leave this bar. Extract peanut shells
from the soles of those boots & walk on.
Don’t look back as you exit the cubicle
where my crumpled body lies. It’s okay.
I can take a new form, whichever you like.
I could be your cowboy hat, or the horse
you rode in on. Just say the word, Mischa.
It’s dark in here. Light up my line. Dance.
Last Friday’s Poetry Picture Show event in Sydney was a lot of fun: 10 poets reading out poems about the moving image, followed by short films based on the contents of those poems.
Highlights for me were Kate Lilley’s take on Mildred Pierce and John Tranter’s “Paris Blues” but of course everyone was wonderful.
The crowd was great too, packing out the old Darlington School hall, a building I’d never even been to, though it’s in the grounds of Sydney University, where I scraped through an undergraduate degree.
Justine Bateman in Can You Feel Me Dancing
You can read my poem Karin Revisited (inspired by the film Can You Feel Me Dancing, starring Justine Bateman as Karin) online or listen to an audio version above.
One thing I noticed about the text version of my poem, which is written in four line stanzas, is that I inadvertently included a stanza with only three lines.
Does anyone have any suggestions for the fourth line?
Here is what it looks like right now, in context:
Dancing makes you free. You're in an invisible machine, standing upright, & each movement of your body bends space & time. For Karin, that moment before lift-off comes like a swoon, or
a screen kiss at the end of a dance. She freezes in mid-air like Superman before a blue screen, or a magician's assistant, supported by strings,
listening for the end of each scene. A minimum of crowd noise, just the tube's silver surf. The way it was that afternoon at home when she sat & listened all the way through it. That silence ...
