Light - A Journal of Photography & Poetry 09 | BEGIN | Page 8

JOSH MAHLER | Memory of Easter in Aunt Janice’s Backyard
We never captured lightening in a jar, it flew out
and buzzed away like a song caught in our teeth.
The moon was a rain puddle, the hood of a ’72
baby blue Mustang. The lightening had wings
that whipped the wind around my lips, wet with
the sweet sap of blood. Sound relied on memory
under cover of darkness, the mirror’s reflection,
the first instance of a shadow on my shoulders.
I comb my hair, brush my teeth. I ready myself
for sleep, weary of the things I have yet to learn.
LOUIS STAEBLE | Untitled
8 LIGHT
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