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How a buzz in my pocket changes the way I think Like an anagram of the eyes rearranges how they see An unseen picture appears sensitive to my touch expands on its side but becomes clear straight up I’ve opened a family thread, a child image of me was sent one I’d never seen before  takes time to comprehend why temporal snapshots alter perception, if not my past and how fractures will be camouflaged under his thick mop of hair Yet that kid I barely knew has somehow willed his way through as if to check how he’s grown for back then can’t be known his future shaped by wounds that fused together too soon He’ll face denial shortly enough, when closure sets in, he’s f*cked. Maybe a few shallow X-rays could’ve exposed his flaws Held them up to the light until it fully dawned Guide him past the negatives where black inverts on white Instead a darkroom of maybes tries to redevelop his life So with hindsight today, I’ve been X-raying my life away like an existential poet finds cracks in perceived certainty Best to exhume old bones from beneath dirt and stones, as undying proof of foresight’s hidden failures I won’t write off all my past selves ~ just the one I didn’t see coming Which is me  By David Kavanagh

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