In Black and White
You are blurred in this photograph. Strange
how the shutter captured me, trees,
the house -- everything in sharp relief
except you,
caught in the act of vanishing.
Maybe you were never there.
Just a defect in the lens,
a trick of light.
I am tired of squinting at you
to see what shape you will take,
waiting for you to emerge from shadow
into something black and white.
I will leave this picture in the sun
until you fade and crack,
until we both turn brown.