A new poem. Not my best. It'll do.
Photographs
----
We have four pictures.
It is my father's family
or mine or
us or ours.
It is Halloween,
and it is not. and not and not.
We are costumed. We are a clown, or
our mother's idea thereof.
We are focused with bespectacled Kathy, half-
lidded, concentrating.
Now: We ask ourselves,
what of Halloween?
We say, "I dressed as a hippie."
We aren't sure what that is.
We don't know what to say.
Not-Halloween: our hand hovers
over a fish on the counter,
menacing and desirous,
caught on a hook in the moment.
This is any day
and every day
repeating,
coming back to us through years of void and regret.
-----
That's all for now.
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