#photography

your aperture narrows as f /our voices deepen sunlight burns through exposed cloth shutters

we made you to protect an us we never realized would be safe as she is it’s no decorative pansy

darkrooms reveal stains & splatters under safety lightbulb, glowing ruby our eyes don’t adjust yet

we have twins, don’t we? is it sisters, not twins? god, no that’s a different flower entirely — rosemary

craving total transformation, identity a disposed wrapper. becoming a vessel for want, glass poured into, overfilled.

you haven’t been here lately. something in our combining always begins this reaction: photochemical excited state

learning how to spark again — days ago: gel, pumps, bulbs, rattling pill bottles and nerves, black gloves, gold foil, silicone.

it’s warmed up enough already. don’t ask or guess — just know. take a part you claim as yours, shape it to your pleasure. use.

time stutters; the gears grind forward under prying pressure. repairing hidden mechanisms, counting every beat yourself.

disappearing deconstruction: ripped apart by heat and light, shredded into a thousand tiny pieces of steel. shrapnel blast.

there is stillness in oblivion, peace made in the darkness. clenched fists, soaked linen. i swear. i won’t move. i can’t.

i’m sorry i bumped into you. i thought you were a mirror. your clear surface showed what they saw of me then.

parties are meant for diffusion, but we focused instead. twisting the lens to almost make out what was there.

i’m sorry i couldn’t touch you. i thought you were a mirror. i feared leaving greasy prints for everyone to see.

museums of mailboxes and phones reveal past and future connections. a present — behind smudged display glass.

i’m sorry you didn’t see me waving at you in the city. i thought you were a mirror. you weren’t yet waving back.

being gay is hard sometimes. hotel bathrooms get steamy, you can’t always get the right angle before the image blurs.

i’m sorry we were interrupted. i thought you were a mirror. i never dreamed anyone would walk through it and shatter the glass.

i need to move but i can’t sleep. some things aren’t done yet. i’m hiding from sunrise, from men, under blankets and cardboard towers.

i’m sorry i looked so long. i knew you were a mirror, but i couldn’t spot the vanishing point. some reflections distort; yours perfects.

half decade wishes: a leveling out. forbidden kisses the right choice, no doubt

central park consult king cole martini review old results discard bikinis

photograph the curves archives in high gloss the things i preserve, they’ll surely just toss

day before phone calls rage at the system its stops, starts, & stalls need to assist him

sleep, holding a heart cleanse every surface wrong name on the chart of course you deserve this

wave as the doors close don’t use the “b” word eat eggs as you doze the artwork looks blurred

a husband’s phone rings let me inside there treat you like a king hold cups as your care

bumpy ride that night late rooftop phone call two beams of bright light never forget fall

a week goes by fast managing your pain see yourself at last straight scars and no drain

i cry more than you do it hits me deeply this thing that you choose didn’t come cheaply

a body transformed like overnight oats years since your plans formed i’ll keep taking notes

twentysomething object built to take a beating— recording blurry scenes to wound cassette tapes.

humming with precision opening up when pressed her red button worndown by many careless owners.

secondhand machine with new ways of seeing inside freezing a frame when it can’t take this much in…

an observation device for triangular dynamics that separate signal and static projecting what is actual.

a new lease on life from repairs to its internals, charging, maintenance, & importantly: regular use.