by Joan Colby
The sky grays, a developing photograph
Under our fingers in the acid bath,
The enamel pan, infra-red
Glow of the shuttered darkroom.
Like bats, slices of film hang
Suspended with clothes pins.
Here we charm the features
Of blurred landscape into particulars.
Water falling sheerly from a cliff
Over which a sky lightens
Just like this.
Joan Colby lives on a small horse farm in Northern Illinois with her husband and assorted animals. Publications include: Seven books published including The Lonely Hearts Killers, The Atrocity Book, etc. Over 980 poems in publications including Poetry, Atlanta Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, The New York Quarterly, South Dakota Review, Epoch, etc. Two Illinois Arts Council Literary Awards (one in 2008) and an IAC Literary Fellowship. Honorable mention in the 2008 James Hearst Poetry Contest—North American Review and the 2009 Editor’s Choice Contest–Margie, and finalist in the 2007 GSU (now New South) Poetry Contest, 2009 Nimrod International Pablo Neruda Prize, 2010 James Hearst Poetry Contest and Ernest J. Poetry Prize