Notes for Photographing the Sunset

Jennifer Molnar

 

 

Cheat the hours via air and westbound roads. Subtract yourself from the horizon. Memorize the day’s last blaze folding into itself, mercurial, his reflection curving across the hood of the rented car. Remember that all you see cannot be trusted, that entire spectrums exist beyond sight. That the cost of this moment is the value you assign to the imprint of the stray curl pressed damp against your forehead as you arch upward to find his mouth with your own. Accept the risk of that quickening, that he will always step out of frame. Know the rules of refraction, how you will bend to him. Understand the phenomenon of atmospheric interference, that the romance of stars is nothing more than light passing through turbulence. Embrace the lovely danger of interpretation. Accept that light can be chased but never captured, that determining the location of its source is an imprecise art. Which is all another way to say: if there is an equation to measure the distance between you, he is the unknown variable. Adjust your aperture accordingly.

 

 

Jennifer Molnar the author of the chapbook Occam's Razor, and my work is forthcoming or has appeared in New South, Hawai'i Review, So to Speak, Best New Poets, and elsewhere. She received my MFA from George Mason University and resides in New York.