Flash Photography

Written just before the Sun took my picture, late late at night.

Was that a half-heard whisper

Of the first breath you will have taken in minutes,

Or am I still hearing laughter in the way midnight

Light plays Thunder across your eyes?

Still, I have come to understand that in this world,

There is no better feeling than the hot pressure

Of hands pressed through you

To reach for a deeper breath,

Like the familiar tug in my blood

From hearing you shout whispers of "Come on home."

After you're out of the picture.

So it's looks like that that show me how our skin,

It's made up entirely of so many spent Polaroids,

Torn up and held together so that all our thoughts and vices

Sepia pooled into blank canvases

Like the blood draining from my face as my fingers slip

Over the black plastic.

Sure, grand old life backbone propped us up here,

And said that we should all behave and sit still...

And smile;

And yeah, I'm going to breathe easy from here on out,

But I'll need help to outrun each of our own flashing images.

And I can't hold this guillotine shutter open forever,

So smile with me.

The camera and I both know:

This photo....

It's going to last forever.