When I asked you to take off
your neon orange trucker hat
to sit for a photo between two trees,
I did feel embarrassed for you,
awkward to have tasked myself
with slightly undressing a friend.
I could tell by your open mouth
that you were genuinely distracted,
awaiting the first shot. Your sundress
pooled around your knees in the grass,
and you poked at ants.
It didn’t suit you,
posing, or being posed.
Everything, your expression said,
was out of place,
was not itself, was fragile
against sturdy oak trunks.
It was a lie.
Exactly what I wanted
to capture.
Click here to read Nick Zelle on the origin of the poem.
Image: Public domain, Female in white dress standing on grass, Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.