Focus Poem by Sonny Rainshine

Why does everything have to be
subscripted for you? Taken
to the nth power, multiplied,
then divided among your admirers—
your coefficients?

You have no grasp
of the concept of one.

Having redefined chaos
as multitasking and “functional freedom, ”
you have rejected domesticity as bourgeois;
your studio reminds me of Chernobyl.

Miraculous, though,
when you are separated from
life, from all of us, your friends,
by the lens, firmly anchored behind all your
photographer’s tools,
when you open the shutters
and a flash goes off
and you lovingly zoom in
on life, framed, unified,
everything comes into focus
for you with a singular
click.