Today's poem is by Deborah Bogen

Ghost Images

The mind's a mad cupboard, blackened silver, cups and thimbles.
The mind's a jerky focusing machine still stuck on the girl
who hung by her knees.

And within the camera [opening : closing] — fireworks.
                        I mean within the empty box the light's frantic,
grappling with: the monk, the match, the gasoline.

The mind is likewise occupied, its light piteously stark, distorted
— but which of us can ever look away?

Into the angular cranium levers lift cold light, but
how dark and small the box
And hands must hold the camera still, so stop your breath

            [so stop your breath]

That's how you coax something into the box, something bloody or blood-lit,
a headless rooster or snipe — your attention split.

Seeing the two worlds.

Copyright © 2009 Deborah Bogen All rights reserved
from Let Me Open You a Swan
Elixir Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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