Camera Obscura

Glass eyes tell no lies but only record
sins compressed by telephoto lenses.
Aperture admits as much light
as he chooses. No choice, no agency
objective prism, dispassionate voyeur
unblinking uncaring ever staring

flies flit about festering fruit
rotten, split guts spilt seeds
overripe blood oranges litter the field
falling amongst corpses posed
in the act of living. Paused mid-
scream, mid-scene, mid-

Slow death of a life imprinted upon
fast film stock at ISO two fifty.
When the film is used up so is he,
direct your own life efficiently.
Extreme close up, pupils dilate
Face to face with his own reflection

horsefly lands upon the reflection
of a killer in a dead man’s eye
one of a dozen sprawled amongst
the roots, died running – away, to?
From? Died running amidst
Falling leaves and special effects

Who would want to watch their whole life
again, and again and again? Could he edit
and make montage of moments
put conversation in static framing
shot, reverse shot, point of view subjectivity
continuity created, narration unrestricted

A dying man’s hand clutches, reaching
for salvation. Falls upon a fallen
orange, bloody handprint mars
the pebbled aromatic peel.
Coughs out his last words
Just like they were rehearsed

live your life like a movie
it was said. But what kind of film
would this mess make? Who
would want to watch me? He
says to himself, behind the lens.
Calls cut, and takes five.