Matt Smith at the Louisville ComiCon talking poetry:
“If any of you have ever been in love with someone who lives a long way away you must get this book. It’s called Rapture. The fist poem is called ‘You’.” And, yes, he did recite the first line. I am now going to imagine him reading this over and over, falling into love.
Rapture, Carol Ann Duffy
Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head,
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.
Falling in love
is glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger ready to kill; a flame's fierce licks under the skin.
Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in.
I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone's face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me
and I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream.
— Carol Ann Duffy