The photographs are old,
some faded, spent flowers,
forgotten, left in a shoe box left
in a closet smelling of mothballs
and cedar, sisters in form-fitting
dresses, bobbed hair, smiling
at the photographer. I know them
but I know them thirty years later
as they were careening to old age
but smiling, always smiling
at the photographer. They knew me,
thirty year later, and we all smiled
at the photographer.
Photograph: WPA Artists, 1930s, Michigan Department of Natural Resources.