Disposable Pleasures

by Ed Higgins

when I take the time

now to remember


you have become

a thousand page


memory book

sifted into particles


that tie and untie

cords of absence


tighter than old lusts

or other familiar delights


only hinted at

in these photographs


of the sea's peculiarity

on a grey clouded day


with an immense sun

opening heavily upon you


a white O'Keeffe rose

sensuous and blooming


as perishable as skin itself

or undoubted truth

disposable as loneliness

and all such light pleasures.