Sheilah Wilson

 

You are my most vainglorious act.

(And to this act I offer a trail of photographic approximations)

 

I am the out of breath desire to anchor you to me now

you are the just barely becoming out of sight.

 

You are the act of running      you are the figure disappearing            you are the exhalation of the day.

 

I know these photographs are the shedded skin of time.

Of course they go out with the laundry I tell you.

All the moments should be pinned to this line.

Flapping paper and cloth – the only difference is that one is to wrap you in and the other is to wrap you with.

 

 

Later I will lay gently down on top of you; imprint the day

and move sideways

to sleep.

 

Morning comes.

Light through a window.

 

In the act of photographing is the act of holding you.