Memories incurred upon seeing an old photograph

The photograph is a lie.
I don’t know where it
came from but please,
get it away from me

the background snaps
teeth into my leg, a hunting
snare to root me in place;
the lovely play of shadows
only a false memory can have
sucks me lushly in,
one look
and acid seizes over my
insides, cuts through
my teeth, and then

the oval white cakes
of faces, my hair,
those alien filaments
have never a day in my life,
ever been that hairstyle,
it’s a lie, it’s lie,
burn it or tear it up;

the pixels then stipple
denser, blacker, take
form in two eyeholes
with irises that are not
mine, never were mine,
two little disposable cups
holding emotion I do not
recognize, but it’s
sloshing out anyway;
I would never be so careless

don’t ever forget to
dry your hands before
putting them in an electric
socket, because you’ll
know how it is to face
the ghost smile,
the demon possessor,
white as blindness and
hypothermia, go away
and stop tormenting me
burn this like the witch
it is, this picture
is not mine, please
take it away, away
away before I see

the one next to me
who is utterly beyond
recognition, but with
the same smile-knife,
cutting cutting, the same
bright pinpoint
searchlight eyes
scathing me,
who is this?
who are they?
why are they and you
doing this to me?
I’m innocent

the picture is a lie,
please jury
please judge
please prosecutor
just drop it, spare a
woman who never did
anything to anyone,
I’ll even suck cock for
the bored court stenographer
if he can spin this
in my favor,
just take the picture away
lock it up, chain it
it’s dangerous
it’ll kill me.