A Poet's Write

The view.

By Spencer Baily Community Contributor

Posted on Fri, Jan 15, 2010 : 7 a.m.

camera is my mother’s eye. She hunches under light- repelling black cloth. She’s my height now and so rectangular. She asks me to choose a yellow box of undeveloped film by her feet.

I’m six, old enough to be her assistant. I hand the box to her hand reaching into the light. Metal, plastic latch into place. She explains how this camera, its large negative heightens precision. I half-understand. I drag my sneakers through the grass, remove mud. I’m careful not to wander in front of her lens. She pulls aside the cloth, grows tall, squints, come and see. Look.

by Chloe Yelena Miller

About Chloe: Chloe has an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Narrative, Cortland Review, Alimentum and others. She recently read at Sweetwaters through their reading series. If you would like to contact her she can be reached at chloemiller@gmail.com Chloe's Blog 1 Chloe's Blog 2