I lift the camera and veil my face,
The camera is intimidating and suspicious,
Nobody understands or has any use for it;
You reach for your cigarette
Like you clasp your breast in sleep;
I lift it up chary of the world
Who chide me for keeping
A widget in the house.
Down the fallopian barrel of the tele lens
You crouch in prenatal mindlessness
Kuhlick! A magic spell,
Pronouncing you a lilliputian,
A foetal captive
In a little black hell;
But the camera is only an instrument of birth,
I lift it up in an act of love,
I dream the transformation on your face,
When I bring back in a week, a year,
A crisp gloss of your regained loss.
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