Family Photo Shoot
Karen Craigo
This is what you look like —
a Christmas card won’t lie —
the four of you together,
no ketchup-face, no sweatpants,
all of your eyes focused
toward the same point.
Your husband is handsome,
and you are happy, not
the mother of forgotten cellos
and calls from the school,
but the one who laughs
with her eyes, the one
you’d like always to be.
No one is running or falling,
no blinks or butt cracks here.
A photo is the work of a moment.
Before this was snapped,
your toddler made off
with a prop; you snagged him
on the move to recover
the purloined apple.
In your favorite,
your cheeks are still pink
from the chase. The thief
touches your mouth;
his brother feels for your hand.
This is the truest — everyone
asks a piece of you,
and you give it, and always
you find a little bit more.