Surfeit of Loveliness

Besides an anime introduction over Christmas,
It’s been a year and more since my last movie.
I reach satiation during morning sickness,
And, all things considered, I’d rather write poems.

Today, though, faced with mountains of dishes
That the dishwasher couldn’t touch,
I pulled out one of my favorites,
Shawshank Redemption, and started in.

I had forgotten how even the prisoners marching
Is like visual poetry; how the lighting
During a beating is so lovely the eye lingers.
I had forgotten how very young Tim Robbins looks
Initially, and how perfectly they age him.

I had forgotten the injunction to get busy living,
Or get busy dying.

Some things I had not forgotten, such as the
Impossibly perfect ending. And I remembered

The opera, a duet from Le Nozze di Figaro,
But not how all over the prison the men stood,
Silent, still, listening.

I’ve been to the opera. Even during the most
Transcendent duets, we don’t pay that kind of
Rapt attention. We should.

To live with surfeit of loveliness
And, thus, not appreciate any as we ought:
Perhaps the single pleasure the prisoners
Absorb is sufficient to remind us:

May we be more mindful
And more thankful.