Camera Obscura

By Peter Halstead

Fogs descended from a higher realm,
The trees like tinsel wavering on the tide,
And our eyes clouded up with film
In whose worlds are better ends implied;

Breezes sloshing in the tubby caves,
Blizzard mirrored in a snowing tap
Of worlds painted by the waves
Risen from my fleshy map;

A planet scudding on my soapsud skin,
All the galaxy inside my globe,
The very liquid that it washes in
Xeroxed on my body’s rippled robe:

A photo incubated in a box
Like an ocean that your eye unlocks.

Redone April 16, 2016