Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.
Cynthia Atkins: When Harry Met Sally
A light quaked on earth, because when the waitress
gasped and blushed, we gasped and blushed,
sitting in the plush dark aisles to our interiors.
On film, the thrall of chemistry, charm and human
enticement—How her lips twitch when nervous.
This starry night, a space ordained by popcorn,
tooled by an audience of every stripe, walk and timber.
Because the camera’s eye opens a portal, we can
cry, we can share a deluge of belly laughter.
Our elbows might touch, offer a tender
shock from the fabric of our clothes.
A swath of goodness in a dense day of losses.
We are dimly lit, as their kiss becomes our bliss.
Inside the vintage theater, together we are lifted,
transformed, arrested—Because we are held so tight,
no ogre under a bridge or on a bluff, could prick
the skin, as our loneliness turns to love.
~~~~
Copyright 2026 Cynthia Atkins
Cynthia Atkins‘ many books include Still-Life With God (Saint Julian Press 2020). She lives on the Maury River of Rockbridge County, Virginia, with artist Phillip Welch and their family.
Discover more from Vox Populi
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
❤️
LikeLike
One nice (?) result of the stroke is I’ll be able to watch it for the first time again.
LikeLike
“The first time again” is a great phrase. Thank you.
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Delightful.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Such a lovely poem — and (sigh) such a timely one. The phrase “sitting in the plush dark aisles to our interiors” will stay with me.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A wonderful celebration of romantic love, as well as a skillful tribute to a great film, probably Rob Reiner’s best.
>
LikeLiked by 2 people