1.
I see you. Dark hair, marcel waves
sculpted to forehead and temple,
to high cheekbones and jaw,
elegant posture.
Now divorced,
sad distant smile,
straight lips, broad nose,
china-white skin contrasting
to the dark studio background.
Wide white satin scalloped collar
draped over your shoulder,
edged in contrasting
dark embroidered curlicues.
Shiny glass bead necklace at your young throat.
2.
I see you in home-printer color
slumped in your wheelchair,
head perpetually dangling, heavily,
to your left shoulder, revealing the moles
on your neck and the cheekbones I used to play with.
Straight lips, tired one-hundred-year gaze,
short white hair, choppily cut,
ragged over the ears.
Your dowager’s hump bulging
between your shoulder blades,
like a heap of fiberfill under
your hot pink sweat suit.
3.
I see you in my dreams;
you running through a sunflower field,
long brown hair blowing behind,
light and lithe on a mild bright day,
arms behind you, head up, chin out,
smiling and free.
From darkroom, to digital, to dream,
Grandmother, I forever see you.
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