A poet’s eye can determine droplets
orbs full of—no, that’s different;
whether a ghosted-orb is transparent or hollow,
and what they are full of
takes time and furrowed brows to
try and unravel.
Today, accidental video captures
are the most common proofs
of fuzzed-out zoom-ins.
Look at the coronas, the running away,
sonic boom captured
on an early morning door
camera, float of feathers elsewhere or
three children ringing
the bell and skittering away
only to be caught in the act:
one furthest toward
the road (the same one
who always fell behind
and took off first),
one who peeks from behind the column,
one who touched the door, came closest to foreground,
triggers the camera;
still pulling an arm away, we see
leaving a darkened space
to fill with our wondering,
what do you need to say?
will you return to help us understand?
where do you go when we don’t feel you?
are you just exerting less energy so I can’t feel you near?