2 June 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 2
The camera stores the hours when
everything returns to the right hand,
view finder matching patterns
of parents and children, shutter
measuring different speeds of dying,
flash fixing days when the living
came together with remembered
sounds of hammers pounding
nails, hands slapping dough,
sticks rattling fences.
Everything stored in an eye flash.
All the parts reconciled
in a landscape with grass
a green that never