apostasy

tired of your frightening illness
and its mortal implications
tired of being reminded it doesn't matter
because we are all death anyway
tired of your excuses—being avoided
in favor of the smooth flight plan

my nerves are arabian horses
the day is dirty—gray clouds,
no rain or snow. on the mantle
your polaroids, instantly lost,
just another image of your face,
a ghost, deception of light & self.

tired of suffering for your
interpretation and its mistakes
tired of having trusted you
and tired of your constant betrayal
tired unto dying—anymore of you
shows only negative in the wrists.

(AG, for whom this piece was originally composed, was a serious photographer the first five or six years I knew her. The chapbook Sangamon Poets published of AG's work, Light from New Steel, featured several photographs taken and developed by her. This accounts for the numerous references to light and image that shadow this and other poems from this era. She was pretty good, too. Although she was a better poet than photographer.)