A photo that wasn’t supposed
to be taken, a snapshot off kilter
demands self compassion,
the crepey neck lines
the broadness of a face
now carrying more weight
I’ve wished for so many different
everythings looking
at pictures of me, can’t see
what’s actually in them
busy wishing for what’s not
Behind us: a copse of trees born lucky
roots plunged in plain sight
sound scent of all this cascading
I can hear his laugh, sense the rhythm
just by looking at how the top teeth catch
the lower lip brown eyes shaped similar
to mine in laughter they crinkle up
so our faces look like scones
eyes like raisins or blueberries
(or even better chocolate chips)
The picture is of us facing the falls
ruins still visible, sloping and earth
hard packed at our feet
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