– After a father’s photography


I see him when I see you—

a touch around the nose, a rounded
cheek and chin, the pounds of early years
developing sepia tones. 

You carry him—his weight
folded into your being, your art

capturing still frame remnants
of the man—the quiet adoration,
the youthful affection.

When you press your lips, in hushed
conversation with that released
and vital slip of his soul, you capture
immortality.  You create a world
from the negatives

just as, here, the slip of a girl
he saw, remains, forever reflected
in the untrained eye
of a man, doing his best

to be enough.  At least enough
and never forgetting, or forgotten,

the legacy, floating in a darkened room,
with fingerprints and saline, at the edges,
transforming what was once
so tiny, so insignificant

with his light.