‘Forgive Me’, ‘Ashes’ & ‘Painted Turtles’

Christopher Zarcadoolas is a photographer and arts worker based in New York, NY. His ethereal imagery — steeped in the quotidian — asks viewers to slow down and consider what is often overlooked or taken for granted. Zarcadoolas’ photographic work engages with ordinary moments from his life, using photography as a meditative act that is both existentially fulfilling and personally revealing.

Forgive Me

I didn’t understand
how meth was an anchor,
buried beneath the ocean,
tugging you back.

You hated to disappoint.
Standing still was not defeat—
the deck was slippery.
Your flip flops had no tread.

Then someone threw a dock party—
the laughter and the dancing,
a string of LED pumpkins,
the voices echoing.

Everyone admired
the way you twerked.
How good you looked
without your shirt.

There were no shadows,
only halos around the lights,
the moon too small for the sky
as the tide brought you under.

Ashes

Sitting at my sister’s kitchen table,
The FedEx box arrives,
Heavy for its size,
You, but not you.

Not your smooth back
I rubbed at night,
An island bird
Perched on your shoulder.

Just grit and bone
We mixed into soil,
The coral hibiscus we planted,
The same color as your suit jacket

In that photo—chin resting on your palm
Gazing into the distance
Channeling a haughty escort
Or a dashing model.

Painted Turtles

My friend’s brother’s death
Reminds me what I miss:
No gold bars in his safe,
Just Star Wars keychains,
His grandmother’s earring—
A life packed in two hours.

The stories you told:
Native American ancestors,
Your sister a rock star,
Growing up in a mansion.
Ghosts lurking--
Only a wizard like you could see them.

I sent you a book
Of spells and incantations.
Too noisy to read
In the Suffolk House of Corrections.
A mother searching for something
To transform you.

Kayaking on the Mystic River,
I spot a bale of Painted Turtles
Lining a black, gnarly branch.
They fall into the water
Like synchronized swimmers--
One goes under, then another.

Randi Schalet