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.