Julia Lisella

After Carrie Mae Weems' Photograph The Edge of Time

I have stood before
the body of my mother,
the body of my father

each time I have reached out
fearless of their dead bodies
I have disturbed the contours
of observation
to touch them

did the air shimmer then, the sky gray a little?
did their bodies transpose as our skins met?
the warm of my living skin,
their cool crepe folded hands?

In the photograph a woman
looks out across a desert town
or down into the eyes of the canyon
the shifting clay of its walls 
or out at an ancient living village
the cool white stone of its buildings

but I have never stood at such edges
in a black dress
my hair pinned
my arms at my side
either in arrogance
or beseechment
or praise

I think of their bodies so often
yes, alive, but even
in their chemical preservation 
rouged and dressed for a wedding
and still I wish 
to be standing there before them
to see, to memorize them

Back to Issue XIII…