I wanted to stop time
to capture the face of the Jewish giant
the boy with the hand grenade in Central Park
the triplets in their bedroom.

They were not freaks of nature,
Their faces shone
with the distorted and fragmented light
of the photographed.

The moment before and after
the picture is taken, it is lost
like the formation of clouds
that keep moving over your head.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t see colors anymore.
Just the black and white
Feather and bone
of raw humanity.

With light comes pain.
It is palpable in the glint of an eye,
a smile, or a hand with brown age spots
and in the way the flower girl stands
in the field of fog, alone and gazing into the starry future.

I am that flower girl
I am the Jewish giant.
I am the boy with the hand grenade.
I can frame things.
I can control life and death
and grasp the sameness of sand, water, light, and body.

A1 Jill Moses

JILL MOSES earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Oregon, where she received the graduate award in poetry and served as assistant poetry editor of the Northwest Review. Currently, she teaches writing at Drexel University and is an editorial assistant for Painted Bride Quarterly.