Daguerreotype Taken in Old Age

I know I change

have changed

but whose is this vapid face

pitted and vast, rotund

suspended in empty paper

as though in a telescope

the granular moon

I rise from my chair

pulling against gravity

I turn away

and go out into the garden

I revolve among the vegetables,

my head ponderous

reflecting the sun

in shadows from the pocked ravines

cut in my cheeks, my eye-

sockets 2 craters

among the paths

I orbit

the apple trees

white white spinning

stars around me

I am being

eaten away by light