In the Dark Room
Each morning she enters the dark room.
Canisters of film, yesterday’s memories,
waiting to be developed.
She puts on her gloves and prepares
the chemicals in their trays. Developer,
stop bath, fixer, all carefully measured.
She sorts through the captured images.
In this one she is walking to the car,
her hair blowing in the wind, sun shining.
He is waiting for her, on their way
to the beach. She smiles, thinking maybe
he is watching her, maybe he is glad.
Her smile fades as she gets closer
and sees his eyes diverted as usual
to something more interesting on his phone.
This is the moment she wants to keep.
She holds it to the light until it transfers.
Develop it. Stop it in time. Fix it to the page.
Each step she agitates with the liquids.
Finally, the picture crystal clear and dry,
she will add it to the stack marked negatives.
5 thoughts on "In the Dark Room"
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From title to last line
you develop the image,
nicely done
I agree!
the reveal and the final word
Rich material here. It takes me back 40 years to my own darkroom days. I didn’t love it because of the chemicals, but nothing beat the moment when the image bloomed into view on the paper.
I love the layers of meaning here. Some of the lines are incredible. Like this one: “Each step she agitates with the liquids.” That one just knocks me out.