Celluloid Gods

Now the gods reappear, as foretold.
Now a million eyes are held in trance,
a million bodies thrill to a communion
of light and sound, as the gods re-enact
The drama of grief, discrimination,
recrimination, slaughter and recompense.
A million beings pulse
 to the rhythm of one well-rehearsed passion,
a million hearts are in the same confessional,
subject to a single therapy.
(In obscure arenas, beyond the stagelights’ spill,
puny angers flare, combatants are restrained
from leaping out of windows, shadows lock
in mortal embrace, and desperate scholars worm
deeper into their books.) Tomorrow all tongues
will narrate the same cure, publish
the universal miracle. They will affirm
the truth of things witnessed, confirm
the prophesies of the tabloids, and when
the excitement subsides, there will be time
for these mortals to journey
to the paradises of merchandise,
to acquire the promises
flashed in the adverts
before their commerce with the gods
recommences.