Arren
Joined: 16 Jul 2009
Posts: 26
Location: Stone Mountain, Georgia
|
Blame the Tape
It sounds a little strained in places...I'm not great with sonnets much less putting three of them together as 1 poem but whatever....here you go.
I ripped up a photograph of you that day
You sat in my backyard on a downed tree
It was accidental. Pulling away
From sheetrock and plaster. It’s easily
blamed on the tape. The paper was not strong
enough to take the binding of physics
stuck to and pulled away, it wasn’t long
before it came apart. The linguistics
of photograph paper are blunt and rough.
Ripping says everything. It is honest.
Now I cannot find one half. Not enough
To tape it all back together at best.
I am missing parts and lacking hue
Of that day I spent rolls of film on you
Of that day I spent rolls of film on you
I remember you most in crunching leaves.
Black and white, from my backyard to bedroom
Hours before slipping your arms from your sleeves
You told stories of how there was something
from nothing and how we were created.
I took pictures of words that were owning
what was in your voice. Now satiated
with film and stories we have moved inside.
Where we did not speak for half of an hour.
Only moved and clicked. Waiting for the tide
To roll you or pull you. This is power
This is you uncovered. You were aching
For a moment when there was no shaking
For a moment, when there was no shaking,
I released the shutter. Boot and bear chest
Where what I caught. And when you were taking
The bright and slatted sunlight from the west
And sat Indian style I called you art
I named you venus and asked you to move
I was not missing pieces then. No part
Had been torn away. I was in a groove
Of your skin looking to remedy hurt
Past present or pending doesn’t matter
It heals just the same. No one can revert
The tearing up of, the falling patter
Of what was black and white, solid but thin
And had a filmy face not unlike skin
|