I hold the plastic button, click
I’m so excited, it’s finally here
It’s the first photograph we’ve had together since I was six…
The flash doesn’t go off-
but I know it’s there
I hit zero
The next day, in the store,
memories are being made
Scarlet to verdant hues, blue corn to dawn
emerge from the printer
Finally, the rectangular box is handed to me from the lady behind the counter
I have all of them,
but I only want ours
I see it, I see the dogwood tree in the background
but we don’t appear
I don’t see mom’s downy hair, brushed against my black, polyester cap
or dad’s macilent arm draped behind my neck onto my gown-covered shoulder
or my too-white teeth grinning about something that doesn’t exist-
just the hint of that dogwood tree,
her petals falling