Artwork by Autumn Riddle
Old Photos
A woman, an old friend,
my brother's ex, sends me
a package of photos
from a time I'd almost
forgotten. There's my father
looking more alive than
I remember him, laughing and
full of familial warmth.
There's my sister, her
hair like blond wings,
and my mother in curlers
playing badminton. There I
am, young, slim, curly-
headed, probably between
lovers. Who's missing?
My brother, of course, and
his ex, who we must
assume was the photographer.
Why should this make
me sad? Why, when the world
is already so titfull of sorrow,
I've wept by myself? It's
the faces, alive, rejuvenescent,
flamelike and so full of hope,
really, when everyone loved everyone.
