Standing at my booth I mull
over gravity. That heavy hand
pulling flesh away from hips
to bring matter back to earth.

And watch Time, governor
of minutes. Ruler of age, look
at the girl in the skinny jeans
voting in her first election.

She smiles from porcelain,
uncracked, while mother’s camera
captures the clutch of the ballot
marked like a mirror.

It’s a proud day. Daughter,
like mother, yet one cannot negate
the object distance. In back of the flash,
the future waits.