so last tuesday, while we were making
wishes out of paper airplanes, and
collages from forgotten stories,
she was on the couch, building their love on
last century's old polaroids.
she had memories preserved on paper from
another world and those
torn pieces of film were her only
window to what had been--

because photographs are justice for
what our minds don't remember,
but sometimes (somedays) in some
cases, she thinks,
we'd rather not remember anything
at all.