The cameras put out to pasture
do not decay, do not collapse
back into earth as might
an apple, leaves unattached to limbs.
Organic matter will
denature itself, left untended
for long enough. But
the cameras persist, bricks of black
plastic. Inside of homes,
these cameras are first forgotten, on shelves,
in drawers and closets. Next,
at the dump, or spoon-fed back into
the land. The lenses are pressed
up against other items rendered
into disuse. Evolution
cannot revive these cameras.
They are our creatures, our creations,
so even now, clutched
within their hearts like old prayers,
memories we won't
remember, and our images
are permanently burnt
onto their film, although this
will fade, will decompose.