Published on NULLAblog

Three — two boys and their sister — behind the mold-grow homes, under the white afternoon sky. The younger of the boys pulls his pants by the hips, a possible glimpse of ankle. A line of thick brick under his feet. He hollers to his brother’s back, again being told: stay put.
The oldest shifts to a silhouette of shoulder and legs in the settling blur. His feet appearing, then reappearing in his focus over the gravel. A half-filled cigarette carton, a black ink pen, an earring-back. A table he lit burns to his left.
Sitting in a supine chair, the girl wears a trench with all its buttons unbuttoned. The tip of a lamp spine drags through dust in her delicately-held hand, fingertips loosely curled, wrist slightly crooked. Her face like closed blinds. The flames heats her neck, drying the skin. Her torso leans forward as her legs bend, then tuck beneath her.
The youngest balances the length of the remaining foundation to hunch over her. His humid breath on her ear. A design of staggering loops and pulls imprinted then erased while the older boy continues his graze.
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Commentary on the Photograph: Tish’s work continues to capture the abandonment by the privileged toward those who are oppressed by poverty and lacking an applicable education.
