Old photography books
Maybe two dozen, maybe more
Held together by their collective sense of redundancy
And a bookcase.
A number of years ago
Maybe three dozen, maybe more
These tomes were revered for the knowledge they housed.
Amidst their pages were the tools for mastery
Of a science, of a skill, of an art.
A means to understand and use
Light and lens, f-stops, filters
The importance of duster
Some pages stained with
Hypo-eliminator
And patience.
They knew it all and more.
Memories of weddings, christenings , communions of all sorts
Pornographic shots of dishes for the menu
Snapshots from the picnic, the first day of school, the new puppy
Textbook close ups of cells
Graduation, Light and Shadow 101, her..So many of her.
Flesh and bones, legs spread, hair
You don’t have to be the taker of the photograph
To own it.
They’re useless now,
Out of date.
Kitsch.
The college library won’t even take them for free.
Soon the old photography books will be retired
To rest in a dark room
And under a film of dust
Their black and white print will yellow.
