by John Gawthrop

by Amy Caponetto Galloway

the moment when the haze
burns off
revealing the town across the bay
we need more of that, she says
clarity, the fog lifting, seeing the truth, I could go on, she says
she knows I’m lying
I know she knows but I burrow deeper into the haze
keep it foggy; I don’t want to be found out
she likes when she can see the tower and the dunes
she likes when the white houses and roofs come into focus
I like the mist and slate clouds
we read and talk and drink and dance on the lies
until it seems normal
she photographs the slow blush of sun dissolving
the violet splash to the silver
moon rising
tomorrow we will wake hungover
to dense fog and start again


About the photographer: John Gawthrop is in late-career in the mental health field, along with being a musician and composer with an interest in phone camera photography. He lives on beautiful Vancouver Island, Canada, where he always has his phone at the ready.