I don’t see them fall
but fall they do.
Each time,
I imagine the thud
of skull on glass,
then carcass on wood.
In one surely unobserved instant,
a life
vanishes,
and in the 5/11 of a second
that it takes for my shutter
to open and close
I become
official biographer.
Photo and poem copyright 2022 by Patrick T. Power. All rights reserved.
