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This work is licensed
under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial
4.0 International License
.

Postmodern Village
est. 1999
e-mail * terms * privacy
Portraits
by Monica

 

Sometimes I take pictures of the sky.

I imagine it’s my brother.

Some days, he’s all blue and gold

and lavender with the clouds bending

the sun. And I say to myself,

look, he’s bending

the sun and spanning the horizon.


Other days, I strain to see him

--so bright and blinding--

the way he stopped letting us see him

before he wanted to let us all go

before guns and “self-inflicted.”


And still--a year later, I force it.

I hold the camera up at sunset

searching for whatever the right angle

is for everything being on fire.


My eyes water from looking

directly into it for too long.

I squint but don’t dare let myself

look away even when

No. Wait. Stay. Please.

No, not even when everything--

No. Please. You’re beautiful.

suddenly becomes shades of sinking.