Gutter Photography Poem by Tsani Jones

It was five by seven
And cut like a butcher's knife,
With stars set in purest
Blue-green, the water of life,
Loose twigs and string
Set about like the end of a storm.

That is how he came
To fall in love with her.

A seed set in damp soil,
Buried in the mud of his mind-
Windblown fence laid against
The heart's only opening,
Nought but a slit for light
And she was in it.

It was five by seven,
His only currency of hope,
Flat, with the dinged taste
A mere dream of reality
Set in stone,
Immutable, maddening.

He could trace the skin
Of a sandy-colored silt beach
With his fingers,
Kiss her with the longing of a
Condemned man before dying...

She would never kiss him back.

This is how his will was martyred.
Love remained flat,
The storm never raged in his arms
He only tasted her in his mind.

It was five by seven,
And with beauty coupled to hope
Murdered an innocent man.