Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Poetry- "Kate Winslet"




Photo Courtesy of Cosmopolitan UK



Kate Winslet
by Jennifer Patino



"You don't really want to 
stay here with the women,
do you?" Loud, obnoxious
pig-laughter. Her eyes
widen in "I-told-you-so".

The way her head turns
to look him dead in the
eye after he slapped her.

The inflection in her voice
when she screams at her
mother to shut up.

Her tears on the edge
of the boat as she wanted
to give up.

A scowl amongst the
rosy faced choir stole
your heart.
Your little tongue behind
the teacher's back stole hers.
Giggling, gorgeous grand
princess.
Creative, controlling high
priestess.
Your defiance defined you.
You numbed your tears with
visions of a magical
world.
Folie à deux-- you brought her too.
Frollicking, fancy and free.

The way your head turns
the day you leave the hospital
and you kiss her and
then kiss your father. He
appears disgusted.

Your screams of separation.
Your murderous ambition.
How you would do anything
for love.

How you straightened your
skirt and put your hair
behind your ears repeatedly.
Nervous. Adrenaline. You would
have torn that napkin to shreds
if it weren't made of cloth.

You sang as you bashed
that woman's head
in so you wouldn't have
to feel just how heavy
that brick was or
just how fucked up this
whole plan was.

Your screams of separation grew louder.

Now you have "come with me"
eyes. A bindi on your forehead.
You find yourself
and your family plans your
kidnapping.

You can cry now and it
isn't enough for them.

"Exiting is a precious exercise," Harvey Keitel says.

Embodiment of girl rock.
In a sari.
'You oughta know' that this
is me, mum.
"He'll straighten you out, girlie."
Your happiness is a threat
and a crime. They strip
you of your garments and
remind you they love you.
You scream family secrets
in response.

The Halfway Hut.
"The mind is a rebel.
It is no servant."
This man thought a blowjob
would be a good cure for
a panic attack.
"Keep breathing."

And he broke you
and you gave yourself
to him covered in
your own piss.
This is how you got
your control back.
By dressing him in your dress
and make-up and helping
him see you see him. 
Be kind, Kate.
Be kind. 

And then later you were so
abusive toward Jim Carrey
but we gave you a pass.
We forgave you
because we saw all
you went through. And
your rainbow colored
hair was just too adorable.
We all saw who we wanted
to be in you even though
you were mean and
terrible.

Then you were a mother.
Such a good mother you
were too. Your children
threw tantrums after
you died. And that was
what did it, Kate.
After all you lived through.
All you survived.
It was motherhood that finally killed you.

Then in some futuristic
dystopian afterlife
you were resurrected.
But you were so evil
and even more controlling
that we had to keep 
hoping that you'd just
die again already.

How many times will
my love for you live
and die again, Kate
Winslet? For how
long?

You even yelled at Leo once
(but he probably deserved it).
He'll never get you, Kate.
I'll never get you, Kate. 

I'm just watching you
degrade all those leading
men on the side of the
road from the window of
a passing car 
with too bright headlights
that you can't even see.
You do this with your 
mere presence.
They can't even hold a
spotlight to you. 

My head turns this time.
But it can't turn far
enough 
away from 
nearly
everything you do. 




4 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you so much! I appreciate you reading. :)

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  2. Semi autobiographical? Very emotional and well thought out . A vision of a wrecked train ride that I would take again. Excellent imagery!

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    Replies
    1. The entire poem is based on Kate Winslet movie roles. :) I can't deny that I haven't experienced a portion of the pains portrayed in the poem, but I can't claim autobiographical, no.

      Thanks so much for reading my stuff, Jerry! I super appreciate it! 😊

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