through the looking glass

through the looking glass

can you see me, 

still, 

through your lens--

in the dappled light, 

my wavering?

tilting my chin

so you can get 

the good angle-- 

leaning forward, 

tiptoes 

into the blankness

of your shutter. 

arms outstretched, 

i'm falling down

into your 

liquid gaze, 

that smooth well

of film. 

plunging through 

the silky tension, 

soft as the wrinkle

of my brow. 

now 

lying prone, 

a blot of ink

on the 

sunbleached page, 

its edges abrupt-- 

spindly cracks 

in the plaster. 

is this the hesitance, 

the breath of time

you will remember? 

all these years

collapsed 

into a frame--

balled in my 

palms, 

poised to let go.