Photojournalism: 3rd Place , Afghan Children, 2005
To say the scab blooms
Across her cheek is trite enough,
Hiding pain into pretending
Girl’s ear is a Weston pepper.
Beauty is distance.
The other cheek.
Pain lacks composition.
The ruffle of sheet, the rustic
Ribbon round her neck,
Like a hobo’s tie, like a fashion
Shoot. But who was there?
The man with the camera.
Blooming is in the eye
Of the beholder. Who wouldn’t rather
a bud opening
To a 3rd degree burn?
Distant observer, I push myself
Away from the lonely ward,
From the inadequate bandage and absent
care. My dumb comfort disturbed
by beauty as truth.