A long slender branch
cut across your cheek
It left a swollen scratch.
Luminous pink with tiny beads of blood.
I traced your outline
on the pavement
You let your eyes go flat.
I let my mind go blank.
We filled your space with leaves
and clover flowers.
I snapped the branch and placed it
where your cheek was cut.
The curve of a short smile.
The second bus
goes across town.
It takes us past the shipyard
where your grandfather worked.
It takes us home.
baby feet standing on a carpet
They bury the men, when that time comes,
and it no longer matters how many hours they worked
or the days they spent
in anxious uncertainty
And we never know the fantasy that pursued them
from childhood through to wizened stoop,
the miracle preservative that could break the mirror
and scatter the rats of life.
… feet on deck behind my house at 7:30 am this morning. Expired Konica 200 colour film in a Minolta XG1 with a 45mm lens, developed on my kitchen counter.
35mm black and white film Olympus OMPC
35 mm black and white film Olympus OMPC