An Orange for a Stranger
Perhaps, the photo’s angle wasn’t right.
A filter cannot make the subject soft.
The focus drifts. I rush and lose the light.
That’s not a pose that strikes a poised one, oft’.
One-offed, and now the poser won’t return.
The gravity precludes a second chance.
The negatives developed and were burned.
The vision is as fleeting as the glance.
Profane prophetic moments under glass
as if seen through a stranger’s windowpane
remind me of the wafers in the Mass
but wrapped in acetate and cellophane.
Each orange is the only of its kind;
extract the bitter seeds and chew the rind.