Larkin’s Rolleiflex
I know you never intended us
to see those freeze frames;
ghostly 6 x 6 prints singing
in a diffused light, that glows
upon damp streets & sentinel trees.
Fussing over the light meter,
calibrating the phonograph
as she mixed you a large gin,
her angled cheekbones sweeping
the room like gyrating searchlights.
Under cool covers of night,
you took to squinting – far too dim
to see who might have been the less
deceived – from the tall arches
holding court above Pearson Park.
Your eye held steady – coaxing her
into frame, just a whisker away
from deep focus; light seducing
the polished glass, like a halo
beaming from corner shadows.
©️Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 