National Poetry Month #11: Photographer

 This is dedicated to my brother Bill Woolum, my favorite photographer.

Photographer

Light has limits. What he can't see

He believes in. He tacks up background.

Shadows explode from a flash.

Winter trees, victims.

Noon comes to find him

At home in the color blue

Whistling in a minor key.

In his dark room, he seeks clarity-

Turns to acid

In unmarked bottles.

Light in the abstract bores him.

His shapes labor against light,

Make gestures in space like mimes.

At midnight he puzzles what presence eludes him.

The space between trees,

The moon's other side,

Eclipse spins from his thumb.

Sunrise. Sunset.

He can never get it right.

- Carol Muske

Black and white photos by brother Bill. I am responsible for the pictures of Bill taking pictures.