the photo

a black and white photograph,
the edges crimped, the thick
skin
brittle
and creped,
but the dark eyes,
hair, the italian faces are all
familiar.
the future and past
all gathered together
near a table,
white clothed.
there is wine, empty
plates.
a bowl
in the middle,
fruit never to be touched.
aunts and uncles
before they became so,
your mother,
nestled between
the shoulders of her
brothers,
smiling, the mirror image
of one of your sisters
at that age.
most of the people in
the photo are dead now, or
close to it.
but then, oh then, how
they lived
and ate, listened
and danced to music,
fought and laughed,
made babies, one of which
was you.