"When You Find a Box of Torn Photographs in Your Parent's Closet" by Jude Marr
When You Find a Box of Torn Photographs in Your Parent’s Closet
your torn genes, unframed: your cardboard hair, once scar-red: threads
history stole: an ego, naked
(deliver me)
sequenced images, nailed: your kiss-curls, your reliquary hair: still
you, without hair: roots wrapped around
(cut my umbilical)
you, but old: hanging on my arm: a twisted pair, heartwood-boxed
and sepia-worn: a mirror-glimpse, now cracked
(let go my hand)
threadbare portraits: one rag-edged eye, pupil-drilled: smiles cursed
and kind: a double helix inked across my cheek.
Photo Credit: Staff