I hang where the workshop wall meets weeds
The night baker counts each step he needs
Dough rises slow in a tin that glows
Footsteps mark the path where he goes
My shutter clicks at the kitchen door
Flour prints on the floor, a trail of four
He checks the oven, a glance at the clock
The yard outside holds a broken lock
Shutter counts the steps you take
Film remembers every break
In the dark you knead the light
Shutter counts the steps tonight
Weeds push through the cracked concrete slabs
A bus ticket tucked in his coat's dry tabs
He wipes his hands on a rag of gray
The camera watches the night turn day
Shutter counts the steps you take
Film remembers every break
In the dark you knead the light
Shutter counts the steps tonight
No flash, no focus, just the grind
Time measured in the dough's slow rise
Each footfall writes a quiet line
The lens holds what the eyes disguise
Morning creeps on the overgrown fence
The b
