Unfolding
unfold the black and white picture
that opens to a perfect square
look at this young, white-gloved girl
posing and smiling as directed
the year, the subjects, the occasion
written in pen on the back
see the perfect ribbon in her hair
the perfect patent leather shoes on her feet
following the fold
a jagged crease across her parents’ faces
see how their hands do not touch
see the cold snow at their feet
and this one, buried at the bottom of a drawer
scratched and torn, yellowed tape at the edges
opening to a brown-eyed woman-child in shades of gray
folded across the heart
smooth-skinned, round-cheeked
her full-lipped mouth holding back her questions
and another, in color, twice folded in anger
leaving the shape of a cross
beside a stranger, a young woman kneels at an altar
a thirsty wanderer at an empty well
and another
a young woman holds a brown-eyed boy in her lap
he holds a teddy bear and picture of his absent father
folded down into a tiny iron-weighted square
this one, in a frame
not yet tucked away in someone’s keepsake box
a gray-haired woman
listening to music from her youth
she stands at an easel near a sun-filled window
her face and palms creased with time
she is painting a woman, painting a woman
who is wondering about the sound of stars
she paints the light illuminating a garden
the singing birds and dragonflies
as she tries to remember
all the people she has been
Editor’s Note: The repetition of the photo imagery in this poem weaves a thread throughout a life’s narrative, with all its difficult truths and lovely discoveries.
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