~ “everything changes, nothing is lost,” Katie Griersar (2014)
Look at their faces in the box
of old photographs— how young
and thin, and already with child;
how slender in loose second-hand
flannels, how vaguely sweet
the eyes not filled yet with any
knowledge of great shift or harm.
And here, his arm around her waist,
her neck caught in the moment after
tremor. There was a rainstorm that swept
every tin roof clean. A wind that set
the chimes in someone’s yard to beating;
a rivulet that swelled with water.
Now she can put them back without anger.
She can pass a mirror in a hallway
without turning completely away.