Matt Pitt

Niagara

You can’t watch now without the gut-reflex
of guilt. You think of Warhol’s painted eyes,
the pop song, the centrefold, youth and sex
subverted into garish merchandise.
In Niagara’s opening scene, the toy-bright
frame performs as billboard or shop window:
she lounges on the bed, the sheet pulled tight
as gift wrap, her rouged lips the pretty bow.
Grace Kelly sighed, and frosted up the screen.
Stanwyck detested you. But Marilyn
is yours. Not Snow White, not the murderous Queen,
but the apple: polished, plump, scrumptious as sin.
You ate her up, every bite and lip-lick,
and now you feel sticky and slightly sick.

A Little Mad Sometimes

I am the good girl. Adulterer, thief,
escaping through the thunder and the rain.
I am the bad girl. Consoler in grief.
I am sorry. And I will turn again.
I am the good boy. Sandwiches and milk.
Smiling underneath my black umbrella.
I am the bad boy. Chemicals and silk.
Burying my secrets in the cellar.
I am the Baptist, murdered on the stairs.
I am the Virgin. Nuova Eva.
I am the Saviour. Sweating blood and tears.
I am a pilgrim, movie fan, believer . . .
Pray for me, sister. Pray for me, brother.
I am the long-lost son. I am Mother.

Matt Pitt is a poet and screenwriter from Brighton. He has previously published in Ambit, Acumen, Prole, Under the Radar and Ink Sweat & Tears. His debut feature GREYHAWK won a special commendation award at the Edinburgh International Film Festival. His second feature MAN OF SORROWS begins shooting in 2022.