THE LAST OF MITTERAND

Watching this French film
here betraying scenes
from my own cultural past
in a discreet dialogue
on food, couture,politics,
my family ties in Grenoble
are still close to my words
hearing the Alps eagles
and other mountain birds
outlasting a critic's audible
screened arrival visiting me
there is nothing not bathed
in the wounds of my poet's time
hoping after the Paris demise
life is worth saving us from grief
from a noble collapse
of embarrassed survival
before my eyes of disbelief.