Laton Carter

Pinhole

The highway is on the ceiling,

and the clock tower

stretches down

to prick the carpet floor.

The world on its head — camera obscura.

A child holds a mirror like a miner’s pan, looks

down into it, and walks through the house — step

over the light fixtures, don’t trip

at the doorjambs.

Insight means to not see with the eyes.

But the pilot, the effortful brain

maps each discovery

as light.

The upside-down city advances into the dark room.