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

perfect simplicity

darkness into light

the hidden in the open.

and all of it beautiful.