Paul Shumaker

BELOW TUNGSTEN LIGHTS

At the beach. 
It’s here I relax. 
 
I pronounce my name. 
It takes time. 
 
The scene is unclear, distant. 
As distant as 
 
the acidic horizon, 
cornered. 
 
I hear murmuring.
 
I hear. The words, spliced
together. 
 
My eyelid, rehearsed. 
 
It’s here I relax.
At the beach.
 
It's here I see 
the camera.
 
It's here
in the camera.
 
Black square, shivering. 
 
Black square above 
 
a red circle, motionless 
between 
tongue and jaw, congealing.
 
I am a syllable.

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Paul Shumaker holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.