Photograph

Summer
Port quarantined
Corpses burned to
Diminish contagion

Around the table covered
With food and spilled wine
A child clings with worry
Tears on the table cloth
The widow, the daughter
And who behind the lens?

By then
She had already learned
To extinguish herself

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2 thoughts on “Photograph”

  1. This is fascinating and intriguing. This put a nail in my heart. I’d love to know the back-story, if there is one, though it certainly doesn’t need one. It is stand-alone powerful and as so much great poetry does, it asks more questions than it answers.

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