Ode to Lizabeth Scott

La première femme fatale

“Yes, I just shot you. Give me a cigarette.” Lizabeth Scott (1922–2015) Image Wikimedia Commons

On this kind of night
Dick Powell says,
“I would shoot myself
If I thought I was
The kind of guy you’re describing.”

You reply,
“I’ve got a gun.”

You are desolation in a pretty shell
All the considerable attractions
Of ruin, oblivion, and wit.

That look on on your face
When you shot Dan Duryea—
He saw it coming but fell for it
Because god damn! Lizabeth! —
Then a tight shot of your face
looking at his off screen body.

Shimmering blond, soft focus, black and white,
With a noir band of cold light crossing
Your eyes like a mask that
Tells secrets.

First, you’re shocked
Because you did shoot him — not because you
Haven’t done this kind of thing before, but
Because it’s been a good long while —