THE MOST BEAUTIFUL IS BEHIND US NOW [after a poem by Ashley Lamb, photo collage 29,8cm*42cm, 2010]
In the town where you were born and where I have never been,
we go walking in the evening,
narrowly tucked behind a sea of children,
hourly walking the moon.
The same moon you held closely to your chest through childhood,
swung violently about.
The action of: to less the beautiful darkness.
In your language, this rainbow is on fire.
Something else, mid-flight, extinguishing flames with the hands.
I am ashamed to say I also dreamed this.
Except C. was there and it was me, burning.
Not the terror or the America or some form of the revolution.
Only a very precise me.
Since then it has again begun to grow darker.
The beautiful the most beautiful is behind us now.