snapshot

snapshot

 

he feels convinced that if he just keeps watching

he will see her turn away from the party

from the unseen person who is making her laugh

see her leave the kitchen and make her way

up the dark narrow staircase

there would be a creak near the top

she would tiptoe along the landing

to his bedroom door   left ajar

streetlight washed against the curtains

to watch him sleeping

 

and though he is awake

he doesn’t open his eyes

he doesn’t know why   so

somehow she’s still watching and

she’s still in the kitchen still laughing

at that joke of someone unseen   happy

the light still streaming through the aperture

into the now unshuttered eye   transforming

the chemical memory of time’s camera   

he still listens for the sound

that creak of a stair

a footstep coming up, a footstep going down

she’ll be there always now