A few minutes from now, you’ll never know we were here (a poem)

Taking photographs and drinking coffee this morning.

There’s no film left in the camera
the shutter clicks
the motor whirs
but nothing comes out

Condensation forms on the boxes
of newly retrieved film packs
my fingerprints visible in the damp
as I pour another cup

A thin sludge of grounds
leaves a trail inside the cup
with my last sip
the cup leaves a ring on the paper

(12 September 2015)

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