the photograph

i have a picture of you
washed dark,
save
for the illumination
of some high-set yellow light
from a ceiling too pressurized
for us to touch.

inset clouds bright
spotlight on your right shoulder.
skin became air
to become skin
as thin as film.
filmy projections of memory
to want
to forget
there was once something.

once

we melted into one another
like illusions in a desert
like shapes in a kaleidoscope
like prayers birthed in an apocalypse.

once

we loved into one another
like our bodies were filled with light
like we had everything

the rest of the photo is dark.
your eyes looking up at me
arms held in a cross over your chest
chin resting on your wrist.