By Caleb Urlacher
you are stuck beneath my fingernails. like the dust under-
neath my camera lens like the hurt in me. And our memories have
become drab shades of sable, setting where only dishsoap and
nailbiting can make me clean again. stripped of inkjet brilliance,
bare photo paper stirs in warm breath. This image was taken with
silver Y2K camera—an amberizer. But shallow depth of field blurs the
days together as i feel the pull to become myself. And i remember
when my finger indented the shutter button like soft clay (“10 seconds
now…”) 10 seconds to feel how i feel.
Caleb Urlacher is an emerging writer and artist from northern Colorado. When he’s not writing, he enjoys visiting haunted hotels, going on hikes, and perfecting his egg cream recipe. You can find his new chapbook Untitle and more at caleburl.carrd.co.
Hot Pot Magazine 