i’ll take a minute to talk about
the pale angel that visited my sandy world, sat in my sunshiney shade
for hours, we just
tossed in the flash of water waves,
gasping, limbs all tangly salty
little urchins fluttering from our crouching shoulders
the razor marks on your thighs gleaming in the beachy sun
my bracelets jangling over my hidden wrists
your clipped wings fluttering in the oceany breezes.
those white white hands, that could capture pieces of the world I never saw
everything in your lenses flickering.
you said the trick was not in the plastic and metal clicking
the paper editing, but completely
in the subject, in the natural composition flowing
that you, had to be able to see.
I had a little baby hope, candle dancing
that you maybe perhaps could possibly
see me the way you saw the world
the way you translated your visions onto film, brought into
darkness into light
the hidden in the open.
and all of it beautiful.