Reading Time: < 1 minute
Sharp is the knife that cuts
as fine as her finest hair,
separating cutaneous junk
from crustaceous time;
redefining shape and form;
accelerating change;
closing on horizons;
preparing eyes for tears.

She smiles a wistful smile;
is divinely unaware
her last moment of normality
is entering the lens –
parallel proton lines
diverging into time,
captured on silicon
permanently –
as far as the eye can see.

Sharp is the knife that cuts
deep inside a parent heart,
dividing sinew from sentiment,
ventricle from heartache.
Fine incisions to part
evil from perfection –
cellular dissection
exchanging months for years.

Paper gains such value
from one remaining image …
evaporated ink, like dried blood,
smeared in that special way.
Pixels are all alone –
brushed, rouge, as her cheek –
painted, unparalleled,
mirroring fading dreams.

© Allen Ansell 2008, 2023