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Monday, September 5, 2011

Photograph Poem #2: NY MOON



A random photo
Moon over 9th street
So beautiful, it almost made you cry
but you rolled out quicker
than a two o’clock high tide

I started taking my own photos,
leaning out the window
nightgown slipping off
morning shoulder
Soft lens shots
lovelier than the first
NY moon

Late on a Saturday night
talking to a friend
I’m an idiot, I told him
I hate myself

I was thinking of the pictures I take
when I lean out the window
and if anyone would believe
it wasn’t suicide
if I fell
I’ll probably live till I’m ninety,
as punishment
, I concluded.

Luckily, he’s a hollowed-out hatchet,
perfect for suicidal conversations
and an emotionless fuck.

Labor Day morning, I lean
out the window, black straps
slipping, photographing
the 6 AM sky.

A different man sits on the couch,
watching The Final Report,
a documentary about Jim Jones
and his Koolade madness.

Very carefully,
I finish my shots,
secure the camera,
and return to the living.

© puma perl, 9/5/11

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