in the darkroom
he could see independently
gradually bringing the past into focus
how those snippets near and far
are but a mirror for the soul
artistically developed
rinsed with a touch of reality
and hung under safelights
it was easy letting go
once able to stand on his own
composite prints defining himself
one eye-opening exposure at a time
october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s much mystery in the theory
and to prove or disprove
has no bearing on outcomes
outrageous or otherwise
what is that you say
oh it is nothing I reply
it’s just a theory I have about
what it takes to make it out alive
as I return to my research
you regress back in time
discovering the inverse square law
examining how past photographs
infiltrate your pluperfect thoughts
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I told my mother I keep all my
photographs in the cloud now
I knew she didn’t quite understand
though I sensed on the other end
she was nodding
what if you want to print them
she asks me
and share them with others
well I can certainly share without
printing them I say
not with me
you certainly may not
august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the little girl sat on a park bench on
a late sunday morning in her
white freshly pressed dress
and white lacy gloves
holding a petite black purse
and wearing black catlike glasses
a slight breeze
brushed back her wavy blond hair
a young man kneeled before her
pointing a camera her way
snapping photograph
after photograph
telling her to look this way and that
using words like angel
and baby
and darling
as if she was a magazine model
now smile he told her
but she would not smile
please smile darling
show me your lovely smile
but she refused to smile
without offering an explanation
clenching the clasp of her petite black purse
becoming frustrated the young man
stood tall and begged her to tell him
why she would not smile
moments of silence ensued
except for the wind traveling between them
brushing forward her hair
and shrouding the blue in her eyes
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
