She kept a Campbell’s soup can filled
with stones on the shelf behind
the picture frame. Her junior
high smile, post-braces, thick
eyebrows. The stones held up
the weight of the frame, white
and wooden. Three women
with the same eyes, same
smile, same hairline, heads tilted
in the same left
direction. Sometimes she thinks
without this photo
she would forget the woman
on the right ever existed.
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i felt the need to post a comment apologizing both for my lateness and for the suckiness of this poem. the lateness is due to easter, my trip home, my laziness, etc. i started out with that rather difficult last line trying to write about a tree house and the campbells soup can, and what else might young boys keep in a tree house? all i could think about was the movie the sandlot. and then i was looking around my room for unusual places to keep a soup can and ended up writing about a picture. and then it was going in the same direction as kyle's last line. and then i got frustrated. so finally i just posted what i had even though it sucks and is completely void of imagery or concrete anything. moving on.
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