To Be Seen
by A. A. Parr
for Monday’s Muse

In the hollow red light
I am sitting, waiting
for you to arrive
in front of me
on the paper.

I stole your image, stole your soul
with my lens,
hiding in the back of the room, almost
but not quite in the shadows
of our generation’s insatiable need
to be seen out on the scene,
to be loved, adored, watched,
but not too deeply, not too sweetly and
not for too long.

With tongs expectant
I fill this space built only for me
and count to ten then twenty,
count out the silence
until I see you, emerging
from your place of reverie
only for me;
in the darkness
you are only for me.

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