The newlyweds give me the best
news a parent can receive
and I have nothing to respond.
I sit silent, deadpan, as her
mother asks
“Do you know what that picture
is?”
“Yes,” and I suppose I change to
a pleased expression,
blurt out some benign comment.
The chatter through the computer
speaker returns,
While the screen shifts from
that iconic, indecipherable wedge of black and white.
I am not there.
I am watching from far, too far
away,
Miles and years and lives away.
I suppose I could have reprised
my expression of four months ago.
That day that I kept too busy to
be so self-absorbed.
I sat with the girl who takes,
and yet returns my son,
Greeting strangers and friends
“what a blessing this is.”
In my tailored gown, black
gloves and shaped eyebrows
I filled my head with vanity,
better than envy.
Danced and clapped and enthused
through my mask
for the lively couple, glorying
in their evening, stark in their black and white.
The crooked, overwide,
plastered-on smile,
appears once, and again, and
once more in the wedding albums.
They are handed out now, mine still
miles and hours away.
The uncles-to-be are proud and excited in their role.
Their family is growing,
Bringing more connections and tiny spirits to touch
soon: “Do you know whose little toe this is?”
How can one be so jealous of her child? I would do anything
for them, but still I want more, I want mine.
My closest friends whisper “Happy, happy, it should all be good!”
Because they don’t live in disappointments, in black and white.
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