Photographic Ekphrastic Poetics

It’s a kind of seduction
Of the poets by pictures,
Of the readers attempted

By the poets who tempt them
With lovely verbal rhythms
And scrolleries of details

That in turn tempt the readers
To want to see the picture,
To see if they see in it

What the poet saw in it,
Which they never really do.
It’s what we words saw in it,

What language made of itself
In it, rising to meet it,
Surf bursting with frozen light.