Developing

You show me to the darkened room
And hold up strips still black
As butter bubbles
In the skillet
In the kitchen
Inside.

You can't redo a shot
Just because you will it.
Bent above the wash,
Awaiting chemicals to kick in,
Flipping gently,
Turning photos over and over again,
I focus on your narrow eye,
A sleepy sepia within the amber haze.
I smell paprika on your warm accelerating breath.

The water trickles slow.
The eggs are likely
Burning.

- 11/5/25

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