Breach

When it slipped through
the sliver in the fence,
I wondered if
gradations of light
in colors too specific to see

would shine into cell blocks
through the skin
of the prisoners and
save them from the worst
of the spectrum.

The closeness of their bunks and sinks,
the shards of soap and spliffs,
the communication, the communicability
that occurs in darkness,
sanctioned by punishment.

There's not much I can do
to save an image
when this happens.
The damage covers so much.
The tower, the sky, the frame.

Nothing is imminent.
Off the horizon.
Rescue, relief,
vaccines, paroles,
pardons, atonement.

Breach

Nothing is immanent.
The results of external causes.
Forgiveness, permanence,
fixatives, this photograph,
the rainbow, my lens.