Eadweard Muybridge

Settled for a bet, the question of the gallop's
not, now, problematic. Laid down flat,
the horse is caught in frames of stilted life;
its hooves are undisputed in mid-flight.
He's solved the bison, too: hard-headed charge
across the desert scree is trapped in inch
by inch of film.

And then the rest: the nude
young woman on the stairs is walking up
and down forever. I wonder what that proved.
In fact, those frames of life of Eadweard's own
are not what we'd expect: it seems as though
his breakdown of the facts to black and white
was merely photographic.

His wife's adulterer
sent a note to her to meet - was undone
when Muybridge paid a visit with a gun
"in answer to his question" (not disclosed).
Did he see the bullet's silver progress
in beads of light that flashed inside his eyes
in zoetrope succession?

- his mind met
the cinematic urge to dramatise,
to annotate with images of movement, pure
and simple. He read the legal symbols
and, in court, admitted homicide;
the judge pronounced it justified - acquitted
him. Old Muybridge left to find the West:

we've
proof of it in running herds of bison,
moving still. They're evidence enough
that we can watch through gaps, and guess it right.

Penny Boxall
"Eadweard Muybridge" appeared in The Rialto

More poems by Penny Boxall:

Everything I ate at Barton State Fair
Follies

Penny Boxall was born in Surrey and grew up in rural Scotland and Yorkshire. She attended the University of East Anglia from 2005-2009, studying English Literature with Creative Writing, followed by the Creative Writing: Poetry MA. She is currently at The Wordsworth Trust as the literature intern, working in the museum and with poetry events. Her poetry has appeared in The Rialto, and she has been shortlisted twice for an Eric Gregory Award.