Lines on a Photograph
The wind (thereís always wind
on this headland) flattens the tussock, makes
the seaís blue bluer even
than your camera could catch it. Still
itís your best photograph to date.
The tussockís golden, flattening
to yellow in the wind, sometimes
to brown. Itís like hair.
Iím quite small:
in my red shirt and blue trousers
and what could be a gun in my arms
Iím a small tin soldier standing
in the middle of your photograph.
Itís all I know how to do.
If the wind blows any harder
itíll take me with it, melting me
into all that blue.
Iím only a part, but Iím at the centre.
Without me it wouldnít be a photograph.
[WWAM, VUP, 1991]
© The Estate of Iain Lonie 2004