for rape, Cecelia and Robbie – she now
a nurse, he free from prison and condemned
later to Dunkirk – meet for tea. But how
can he hold her hand after all this hell,
and sensing the hell to come? What else can
they do but make love with their eyes? Lips tell
each other without sound how they – woman
and man – adore? Tell me it’s just a book
put to film. Tell me it’s foolish to cry.
Tell me you don’t know how, when my eyes look
at you, I adore. Smile and tell me why
war is a racket. Lisp if love is too.
And why I wish I had watched this with you.
Roger Armbrust
November 27, 2015
