So many black and white photographs of only you.
Hundreds by now –
What is it I search for?
Your face, your face, your face.
Your neck, profile, your shadow – your foot against mine,
your hands
I watch each image as it easily develops, chemical wet,
knowing I have only just begun
the what of when you are not here.
These silver-gelatin prints,
glass plate, collodian dipped,
the slow speed of my shutter;
42 seconds of you is all that I have.