We take photos in the moment:
the discovery of a spurt of green
after lakes of dust, a brilliant
feather fallen through some
window in the sky.

Film is the name we give
to the reel as it unwinds
the grainy image; is the thin
layer of scum that coats
these poisoned waters.

We used to write
dedications on the other
side of these pictures.
Who were we addressing?
Someone invented the way

the heat from our fingers
starts a chemical reaction;
the way a small bleed of color
comes through the application
of even a little light.

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