YOU’RE JUST A PHOTOGRAPH AFTER ALL
By John Grey
In a dark attic,
at the foot of your shrine,
my flashlight
disturbs your photograph…
at least until your eyes adjust.
Then they’re free
to stare at me,
full frontal,
as your cheeks redden,
nose lights up,
bottom lip twists,
corkscrews the top one.
Here we are,
face to face once more.
Your death
can’t quite wiggle your ears
but it relieves all my anxieties.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, River And South and The Alembic. Latest books, “Subject Matters”,” Between Two Fires” and “Covert” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Paterson Literary Review, White Wall Review and Cantos.
