Pull Yourself Together: The Gena Rowlands Poems | Amanda Deutch
Amanda Deutch is the author of five chapbooks, including Pull Yourself Together (Dancing Girl Press), Hawks are Better Than Diamonds (forthcoming 2016 from Least Weasel Press) and Fit to Print, a collaborative work with Barbara Henry and Rosaire Appel available from Harismus Press. Poetry and essays appear or are forthcoming in Revolver, Bone Bouquet, Delirious Hem, Denver Quarterly, Ping Pong, Watchword Press and Barrow Street as well as in the anthology Manifesting the Female Epic. A gradute of Bard College, Deutch is a native New Yorker and lives in Brooklyn.
________________________________You are being pushed forth through a doorway, cigarette dangling from your mouth. Are you a queen with ladies in waiting or a mental patient held together by those who prop you up…? It is always the way the cigarette hangs from your lips in each movie that makes you look a little bit tough and compels me to keep watching you move. You hold it just so, smoking with no hands. You search your pockets and purse for something. Always searching. Walking as you smoke. How do you smoke with no hands? You never ash your cigarette. Finally, your assistant takes the lit cigarette from your mouth, pulls a drag himself, hands you a pint of whiskey. You down a swig, gracefully somehow and enter stage left. Later, you ask, “Am I beginning to look like Humphrey Bogart?” It is just that feeling I get as you enter with cigarette, barely speaking, taking that swig, emoting pathos, sensitivity and utter coolness as you walk. Swagger or stumble.
(After watching Opening Night)