my earliest memory is of learning disappearance / on my father’s lap smudging an eraser across the page / even then i knew what i could lose if i was not careful / how whiteness operated to disappear you / have you ever been the first to leave a room / have you ever made your place behind the camera / my children might know me only out the corners of their eyes / when birds slam against rainbacked windows they leave their outlines / the water continues as if there was not dying all around it / are you seeing this / i ask someone here are you seeing this / how many buildings have i passed through without a sound / how many years only remember me by my imprint / when we speak a word we are naming each of its previous utterances / i fear i am only the language i have kept alive / the light we look through took years to get here / to see the disaster you must first see its veil / often it is so bright our pupils are not made for it / they call their blood to the photograph / to take an image you must first take all the light out of the room / please hold as i steady / please keep your eyes soft / as i click /