by EARL LIVINGS
The sea feathering the wet sand with its manes of waves
does not know I am here
The man westering his shadow across the squeaking sand,
hand raised mid-stride as he ventures into his eternity,
does not know I am here
The sun rising into long peninsulas of clouds and imprinting
the stretched sea, the mirror sand, the mechanism of shutter
and captured photons stored and revealed in digital scripts
does not know I am here
The moment the finger pushes the camera button, and long after,
I am not here