A Bookmark in Her Bible

 The family photo Mother wanted.
 My parents and five siblings
 dress in ill-fitting suits,
 plain black and plaid dresses
  
 with little Edna in the smock she loved.
 My older sisters stand in back,
 Mother and Father sit stiffly
 with twins Ella and me held in front.
  
 Brother Albert is slumped in a chair
 head down, leaning forward
 in an oversized coat and knickers.
 His hands balled-up clumps
  
 on his lap, his face puffy 
 below a choppy bowl haircut.
 Dark circles rim his eyes.
 He can’t grin, though
  
 sister Florence wears a smirk
 with a big flower in her hair.
 Augusta the eldest stands stoic and tall
 with her watch on a necklace
  
 to know when it’s time to leave.
 No one smiles for the camera,
 as we stand in front of our stucco house 
 with the stone foundation Father built.
  
 Weedy patches dot the foreground
 and behind us windows
 reflect bare trees--
 the last scene of us all.
  
 Father carried that picture with him
 overseas into the war--
 we dutifully blessed his departure
 but only the photo came home.
  
  
  
 (first published in Clerk of the Dead by 
 Main Street Rag Publishing, 2020)