Photo Shoot

by | Apr 18, 2012 | Blog, My Poems

You stand suspended, the ladder
which seems

to swim

against a white ceiling. I lay
in a curve of color—I imagine

somewhere, the wind is blowing.

You tell me to look deep
into the lens, eyes conversing, and I do.

Inside the barrel, there are woods.

I find a tree, when, in the light,
it looks like a phoenix,

taking off.