Picture Day

I am full of longing, full of envy for the life I had, missing my red hair, and the ten thousand days spent at the beach with babies who were heavy with their tiredness and salty hair, I miss the feel of them, their baby muscles, legs around my waist, arms on my neck like wet rope, their heads leaning on my sunburned shoulder, a human balm, and their father calling them back to the water to be sharks again, to pretend the day had no end, but enough with longing, there are pictures, boxes of pictures, so I sort out what is meaningless, photos of unnamed boats and flowers blooming, and I make a pile of the others, the meaningful, the pictures that tell me the heat of their arms , or how that kiss felt that day when my hair was so red.

3 Comments on “Picture Day

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