Clouds

You shot a hand to the sky
if I threw mine to match yours
4 days later
would they sit the same
or as hurricanes played do they never play again
accordance is immediate and will always filter away
soft restraint
as symmetry aligns me to your mind but never closer

I found a part of you
in a tiny disgusting camera
you left me your eyes and I wore them for days
until red images became nothing other than that
film scuffed and attempts to diversify my thoughts with your own fleeted
inevitably I wandered
I wander
your hands did then as mine do now
but time boxes you into a room
with several walls
what difference if I’m to repeat
honouring
admiring
adoring
when that repetition is untracked
unmarked
my clouds aren’t timeless
the mixture of 90s camera and overcast day
allowed you to forfeit a creative streak in favour of the purest documentation
but the in ease that I capture clouds to fit your perfect diagram
there is no release

A mind I knew
and even more swiftly began not to understand
as you questioned your dreams with your day
and nightmares I would ever leave you
left me rushing to the phone
in an assured tone
to satisfy what concerned you

now you concern me
I can’t find you in what you leave

dust on the film and I wonder if its mine or yours
imagine skin cells and authenticity

I’m about to ruin this thing I love by analysing it into infinity
I want to capture your identity
as you swing the camera and shoot me as a 4 year old girl poking my head round your patio doors
shorts on, hair tied back, I was probably finished painting
and Nana stands, about to shove the camera away from herself
but she hasn’t quite managed to evade the shot
a spotty black dress
her hand furious
I had no idea what you were doing as I looked on you from the doors
or that 16 years later
I’d see what you saw
I still don’t see a majority
wonder daily what you’d think of my perseverance
and need for perseverance
and whether I was truly alone or just felt it perversely

You adored and now I admire
it’s only fair we share the burden
as smooth white darkens to the light that touched it softly
I wonder whether it matters that the light was borrowed from 16 years prior
and whether I existed as an extension of that for you
I suppose that’s irrelevant
but I treasure the trash that you created
because I took for granted the point that you created it
and it only took me 16 years to find the creation and 6 years without the creator to envision it