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Volume 18
Featured Artist: Lyn Lifshin
Excerpt from "The Lost Photograph"
We’re caught in the
circle of mirror. I’m
in front, as if to black
out a hole in you.
When you left,
negatives curled
into each other
like a woman, me,
sleeping, a fist at the
edge of the bed.
I took it to a mirror
workshop years after I
couldn’t remember
your fingers, smell of
hair. When it was
missing, I stalked drawers,
metal boxes, wrote
each person in
the class an SOS –
wanted what had
triggered the sad woman
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