Poetry Issue 21


Carlos Quijon, Jr.

Object Lessons


I have been keeping photographs taken by lovers—an unknown landscape, a pile of rocks, a heap of dried leaves, shadows, feet in blur. I posted them on my bedroom wall. I have a gallery of sorts, photographs of faces, surfaces, shadows. My latest acquisition is a profile of N—, wherein instead of his face, a halo of light. I kept a photo taken by R—, in it a frog has been flattened dead, the shadow of R—’s fingers obscuring what remains of the animal. “The snapshot steals the life outside and returns it as death.” A photo by G— is still my favorite: a row of construction cranes with their necks gracefully raised toward different directions. I am a romantic.


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