Attempting a poem a week. Maybe some other musings. Always a work in progress. Satisfaction not guaranteed.

lost photos

Her parents’ wedding pictures
destroyed in a darkroom incident.

VHS footage of her performances
shredded by moisture and mold. 

Son’s baby and toddler moments
vaporized in a hard drive crash. 

A throwaway camera
on a teenage camping trip 
with her not-really-a-boyfriend 
and a group of his friends
which included an old guy named Shadow 
who played guitar 
and made up songs about blueberry pancakes. 
She ordered double prints
from the one-hour Fotomat, 
never got around to giving him a set. 
And one day she noticed
all that was left in the envelope
was a strip of five negatives
from the start of the roll.

Which leaves the greater gap?

the souvenirs of milestone moments or 

confirmation that a vivid memory was no dream.

Unpacking boxes labeled “Living Room”,
she puts the family albums in the bookcase
nearest the door. In case of disaster.

still
photographs get lost. 

pas de deux

it’s never boring