Regarding light.

Our picture has no faces,
Because the sunlight
Catches us unaware
From the back of our heads
The contours of our skin
Are blackened,
Only the water behind us glistens.
We could be old, young,
Chiseled out from the inside
Hollow apple-faces with paper skin.

We could be
Water balloons, stuffed toys
Inflating at an abysmal pace,
Gradually escalating towards
The big bang,
Or the implosion that
We fear greatly.

To someone on the sides
We look like mannequins
Watching the pavement
Burst into footsteps
Every now and then
A child smiles at us
Wondering
What it would be like
If we came alive.
Our first words may go unheard.

From some peculiar angles
We are dubious water-coloured images
Fading, then re-forming, then remaining
Steady on the canvas,
Before we begin to waver dully.

It is only from the back
Of our heads, that we seem
Like people.
The nape of our necks, tired
With the weight of the light
With the unfettered sparkle in the air.

On an evening like this,
We should have been clicked
Facing the west.