There she sits still, image
locked on that illusory paper,
beautiful, but a little stiff.
She was posing in a time when
photography was serious business;
you had to be a prepared centerpiece,
not a storm petrel caught mid-second
in flight over the smooth, rolling waves.
(The rest of this poem is available in
Sparks and Shadows).
(This poem originally appeared in
Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, Issue #7, October 2000. Portions also appeared in
The Indifference of Heaven by Gary A. Braunbeck, Obsidian Press, 2000).
Labels: poetry
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