Thread: The camera man

How is the light this morning, my brother?
You’ve had your coffee, your three cigarettes
and the spit you manage each new day from your front step
has landed on the grass outside.

The sun partly sheds clouds
as the little girl’s converse gently touch the flowers -
even daffodils and jonquils bend forward as she skips past -
and you, embroiled with intent,
lurk at the edge of the street, the camera
replacing the old trench coat, the lollipops
congealing in the depths of your cheap trouser pockets.

At night, in your frozen caravan,
while stars weep, and memories of a priest’s
urgent voice haunt,
you cut and paste; change
the clothed girl into
an image for your hunger.

How many bones litter, brother, words you’ve spoken
in the light of day to children
who have no idea that a digital camera
can so easily steal their innocence?

I have seen that image of my daughter
discovered on your computer -
oh brother
how far you have fallen and I no longer have the urge
to stretch out a hand to assist.

Fall brother, fall,
so far my anger cannot touch
while I try to erase that digital monstrosity
and remember my daughter as a child
not the victim of perversity.

Fall brother, fall.

I like that you've changed the title to lowercase letters, somehow it seems more fitting for the sleazebag. This is still my favorite stanza, I find it particularly chilling, Danny. The contrast between the sweet innocence of the girl, against such perversion. Your word choices are excellent.

The sun partly sheds clouds
as the little girl’s converse gently touch the flowers -
even daffodils and jonquils bend forward as she skips past -
and you, embroiled with intent,
lurk at the edge of the street, the camera
replacing the old trench coat, the lollipops
congealing in the depths of your cheap trouser pockets.

The pretentious voice, brother, do this piece well! I found it very authentic and felt and what an excellent title.

Third stanza seems a bit superfluous in that it is already quite obvious what is going on, yet given the narrators relation the whole piece seems like one that really just needed to get off the chest...

Upsetting stuff, Danny.

Excellent, as always, Danny. This rivals Dada's Seed (sorry to bring it up yet again, but that piece still haunts me) on the rile the reader scale. I have one little nit, which very well is probably just me. I would have preferred Converse to be capitalized. I initially read it as a verb causing an unwelcome pause. Gut wrenching work delivered in a fashion you corner the market on.

Best,
Lisa