A portrait of a living room carries my father's smile
Like it's the only thing his teeth was meant for
He was standing next to mother
Smile gently creamed on her lips
Like a snowflakes
Something that has ended
Even before it begun
There are times I spent the night
Looking at this picture
Like it's the surviving leaf
Upon the face of hostile water
Creating mental pictures of father
Plucking roses on the lawn
And mother smelling them
Giggling and throwing them up In the air
Images of mother before father, naked
Watching her own body through his eyes
More than she'd ever done with the mirror
And once she'd held my hand and told me
Some day I'll understand why God gave me
Hands to fight and legs to run
That was before she became the reflection
Of a yellow sun on the body of a snowy rock
But then I have always known photographs are stories
Only told my strangers
