Photo Negatives

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I greet the day with that old film’s flicker,
melancholy scratches, fingerprints and
coffee stains from similar previous mornings
photo negatives
and thinking of you I wonder, biting into toast
trying hard not to blink because the flash
of sunrise the image of you has gone.

Which is why I start with a phone call otherwise
there’s no knowing if I’ll remember you, like a dream,
but it’s funny because the fluorescent lights are still flickering
in vain despite the skies clearing out into morning reverie,
into the corridors and every ring feels like the flick, flick of
the rolls of film and the toaster pops and hisses before

it has the chance to burn my kitchen down. But the
kitchen is in solitude waiting for the sunlight to reach
it after the Moon has hidden. And turning to the counter
I realise that those flickery old films are not even
really there. And I am disarmed at the vivacity
of my own dreams and freeze-frame, wait for my mind to catch up.

Created: Dec 13, 2010

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postmodernisms Document Media