The Black Dahlia Dreams of Blade Runner
Last night, I dreamed of
Los Angeles.
Not as it was, when I
died. The promise and
sun of it.
I dreamed of its
now, a neon smear.
The city of
ghosts.
My voice in
its moving darkness,
saying
I’ve seen things you people
wouldn’t believe.
Sources: Ellroy, James. The Black Dahlia. New York: Mysterious Press, 1987; Hampton Fancher and David Peoples, Blade Runner screenplay, 1981.
Bloodline
My bloodline ends in
silence.
I circle back,
before my myth.
Slow now,
like conjuring a
storm.
Still in my descent,
a fury
beckoning.
I stir now,
watchful.
Someone’s out there.
Sources: Ellroy, James. The Black Dahlia. New York: Mysterious Press, 1987. Print, and James Ellroy, “My Mother and the Dahlia,” Virginia Quarterly Review, 82/3 (2006). N. pag. vqr online, Virginia Quarterly Review 19 June 2006. Web.
Dresses, Jewelry, Food
I wanted to be ready.
No one tells you what to
pack for the trip.
I met Cleopatra in
the underworld, and
she told me that
none of it
(dresses, jewelry, food)
matters down here.
Time cures everyone,
she says.
Whatever you thought
you wanted
dies or
goes away.
People worship you or
forget.
No one knows
that
until
they arrive.
Source: Ellroy, James. The Black Dahlia. New York: Mysterious Press, 1987. Print.
Sarah Nichols lives and writes in Connecticut. She is the author of four chapbooks, including Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly Press, forthcoming, 2018) and She May Be a Saint (Hermeneutic Chaos Press, 2016). Her poems and essays have also appeared in Thirteen Myna Birds, The Ekphrastic Review, Calamus, and The RS 500.