Pictures of a Child – January/June 2015
I’ve seen them here before, these photos:
Propped amidst the books about the mind, subconsciousness,
And a lie detector that line the office shelves.
Save the piece of glass that makes these windows
To the past, this child I’d forget.
The one whose stare moves nevermore, forever held
To something just beyond the frame.
A child wild-haired, with eyes full-grown
That stare hard, without pardon,
Blue as the sky and as far away.
They do not smile but to falling snow
Or while laughing naked in a wild garden.
They harden elsewhere, in lover’s arms lain
Too young for words with too much to say.
I look again upon them, these portraits
And like them I grow estranged
Of what once was, but is no more;
I look now and see at last: my Dorian.
But it was I who forfeited, and forfeited to age.
Still, I look and can hardly believe this pictured lore.
Were I and this boy really once the same?