When My Nikon Died
I kept the inner workings,
kept the plastic furniture
while it cracked
into multidimensional bones.
I kept (in part),
the whir of its mirroring mind.
Of course, the viewer has dimmed out
nothing in the camera fully develops,
yet images emerge.
I can catch the blurry taillights of stars,
find my way through a long-burnt corn field,
photograph photographs
yet to be imaged.
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