October 13, 2009Practice
He photographed the corner of his room.
He did it over and over, the camera
standing on its tripod, a waiting eye he opened
when the corner asked him to—the corner
where wall met ceiling met wall. The walls held up
the ceiling; the ceiling suspended the walls.
He was practicing for the long illness
on which he might ride his bed toward death,
from his pillow studying the corner
through a lens dying made. He was practicing
to trigger the shutter tomorrow, on his way
like a live man through the room.
from #23 - Summer 2005