print previewback DAVID ST. JOHN
The Darkroom
In negative both body & sand graduate only slightly any pure black
they’ve recovered from the light
Revealing as the prints emerge in their basin once again the way
a simple swirl of flesh
Across the grained vanilla of the beach allows for sensual waves
rising & falling breaking
Free of my own misunderstanding of the day & your own as well
& because light’s a most complex companion
& the most fluent & most amused by touching only what it wishes
to expose
Obscuring anything it’s chosen to refuse or grown bored by just
slipping off into its own shadow left opaque
& pale as those expectant ghosts in the dregs of my espresso cup
tossed out nonchalantly into the wet street
By a waiter watching us walk away from this café into an evening
of sudden dark curtains & a platinum spring rain 
Going Places
The Darkroom