The moments just before and after

have no document, no proof.

The moment the camera fixed

that specific configuration

into a stopped dance

that hangs like a leap

in the mind, has stolen

grace for its own.

No one would ever

hold their arm like that

but there it is, stuck

betwen one place and another

we shall never see,

a destination implied, never

to be realized. The picture

had to have the dance,

the glance, the relevé,

but will never give itself

back to its origin, and finally

becomes origin itself.