Images of India
The Last Shot on the Roll
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You can just about tell what she's looking at, This little tot. She must not have sat there long – You can see from the pee Which has run down the dust on her legs And dries in the strong morning sun.
I'm glad I saved this shot For something special. The Peacock Gate is very fine; And I caught on film The line of silk-adorned elephants That carried us here From the town below. (There'll be other things to capture As we sag, trundle and sway back down: I'll leave that to the people in raptures Over the shrine behind me.)
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I’m glad I tarried when the others moved on, Chose not to go to the shrine Lagged behind And missed whatever they found. Where I have been carried today I have seen nothing as lovely as this, Nothing that has stirred my mind and senses so.
But nor can I find in my camera bag, Among my too many lenses, An accessory to give me an image As sharp as the one This bundle of a child This rag of a girl Now holds in her head Of her curled fingers, The folds in her skirt And the pee which lingers in the dirt on her legs And dries in the hot morning sun.
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