Nostalghia

Carmen Leigh Keates

after Tarkovsky’s Nostalghia

In sleep he is sent

to a memory that nears

its incarnation.

He can see his silhouette

in the distance,

it walks a dusk horizon

that curves like the top

of a molecule.

His real life earns

a passing mention

in a lengthy deposition

under hypnosis.

*

In the caverns of the baths,

in his clothes and shoes

Gorchakov walks through water;

there is all the difference in the world

between here and home

and as he wades

he smokes a cigarette.

Gorchakov is in danger.

He can be both

inhaled and blown away.

Rather than a reflection,

on a mirror he is condensation.

Sometimes he is just

the breath of a dog.

This poet is a photograph.

When the emulsion

of his thin silver present

is exposed to light, it channels

an old instinct’s pictures.

His country has formed crystals.

*

At nineteen I was a receptionist

at a photographic college.

One of the students

was a man from the mines. He said

Where do accents come from?

And I said something about

kinds of English sounds breeding along a line

– an auditory line of whomever ended

up in Australia, for instance.

In-bred voice noise.

And he said, But at first?

What is an accent in its own place?

It must be something in the rocks.

*

All the water in this film

is actually voice

that has decomposed.

In Gorchakov’s head,

in moving countries he

has started a precipitation.

Think how Domenico’s house leaks

even when it is not raining –

somehow, sonar has bled.

Gorchakov’s old memory is animated

and it transitions through states.

A liquid distilled from his country

is in his blood.

*

At the moment of heart attack,

it is the gas of this country

that drifts from his mouth.

As the poet becomes unconscious

a stratum is formed

and in this layer

memory is a demon that walks

like a soldier from a tunnel.