I didn’t take that picture
I didn’t take that picture through the hospital window.
The one with the sign in the background,
neon-green and sickly.
The one with the airplane trails ripping through stained council glass.
I didn’t take that picture then but I remember now,
the vivid outside sneering at cheap local artwork,
its quiet sobs of paint and
an inappropriate radio
screaming jungle to the muted turmoils in
I didn’t take that picture because I didn’t want to remember.
I didn’t take that picture, but somehow I still snip that shot and dogear the corners of the photo they gave us in
in fearful train track
That’s why I didn’t take it.
I didn’t want to suffer the sound between fireworks,
the merry go round of distance and discharge. I couldn’t bear the echoing space between a stain on a pad or
a line on a stick.
I couldn’t hold these things