Time Lapse Photography
Time Lapse Photography I hear you come and go in my dreams and in cloudy camphor windows. I hear you when I hear other steps down the corridor, other voices that aren’t yours. I recognize your worn amaranth and feather hands, here, on the shore of your wasteland. We were to meet but you didn't show up. An ocean more powerful than night seized you in its hands like a scattered flower. Your photograph looks at me from where you are not, from where I do not know you, from where everything is a lie you leave your eyes to look at me. For reasons, I don’t seem to grasp you've gone on a trip, and it's like you've never been here, you’re just―so soon―one of those stories some old maid told me in the kitchen. The things that speak of you lie, your last face lied to me as I leaned over it, because it wasn’t you and I was embracing that which the infinite removed little by little.