I hated photographs
The urgency of posing
The quick shuffle, the retakes
To make up for how blurry the present is.
Trying to live a moment for posterity seems futile.
To what end, then, did I stand next to you,
Not knowing what to do with my hand
Or the heart stuck firmly in the middle of my throat,
My toothy smile trying to stop me from saying
don't leave or
is this okay
are we okay
is this table
buckling under all the love i
so unceremoniously left there?
Photographs always seem too
Much in the moment, too
Little afterwards.
I'm scared of the hunger they bring.
Of the want need must
Of a moment that exists on a whim
On a cloud.
What is better, then, the yearning
Or the poor placemat of the past?
Take terrible pictures and
Relegate them to a storage file.
Visit them after a year or ten.
The out of focus sky holds little meaning
But there are two people in the frame
Smiling, laughing, caught midsentence.
Grieve love remember them.
