The afterlife of fame
is dark
a neglected mansion
with vanishing court
rats in the empty pool
and antiquated actress
languishing
as ghost of her famous self
flickers in the projector’s beam
or framed in silver
haunts every room
Face unrecognizable?
Name forgotten?
O float me to Oblivion
in my swan bed
with my bandaged wrists
and doors shorn of locks
with swirl of my cigarette smoke
and glitter of my jewels
and silent flutter
of my weightless tulle
Copyright © 2016 by David Trinidad. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 7, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.
“I wrote ‘The afterlife of fame’ after rewatching the 1950 movie Sunset Boulevard. On this viewing, Norma Desmond seemed less of a monster; I had compassion for her as a victim of the impermanence of fame. I was also reading a lot of Emily Dickinson: ‘The World, will have its own—to do— / The Dust, will vex your Fame—”
—David Trinidad
David Trinidad
David Trinidad earned a BA in English from California State University and an MFA in creative writing from City University of New York, Brooklyn College.