Old Photograph of a Young Woman Who Will Die in Childbirth
Barefoot in the yard
In the shade of shade
Trees rooted
In a prior century
In a dress stamped
All over with flowers
Hair done up
In a bright bun
Arms hanging loose
And hands fallen open
Like mouths
At your sides
You stand next
To the solemn man
You just married
Who believes that
You are his
From all of this
We can assume
The photographer
Has gone
Under his black hood
As if under a wave
Having told you to
Stay still until
He lets his hand fall
He lets his hand fall
Meaning
You can move now
But you don’t