It can’t matter to you.
You’re just a light bulb in a glass of milk.
A teacup tossed and shattering.
Blank canvas. Melon stabbed.
A matte, a set, a miniature.
Wear the damned clothes.
Be still, demure.
Let your face be drained
of all expression, sir. Sit.
Look up. Look down.
Do nothing.
Let him paint his world
and its desires on you.
Whatever you do, don’t act.
It can’t matter to you.
This poem was written for the “Vertiginous” project premiered at the BFI for the 60th anniversary of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo”. Isobel Dixon’s collections include “Bearings” (Nine Arches Press).
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This article appears in the 24 Jun 2020 issue of the New Statesman, Political football