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Joseph Wilson<br />
Undated Photograph of my Mother<br />
with her Three Sisters<br />
(photographer unknown, taken in Indianapolis, Indiana, probably West Street circa 1932)<br />
My mother Mary sits between her older sisters<br />
Franny, whose left hand graces my mother’s shoulder, and Laverne<br />
The baby Leona sits astride dear Franny’s legs<br />
While my sweet aunt’s right palm, such a large good hand<br />
Holds her baby sister secure against her chest<br />
As if Franny knows<br />
Already knows how danger and disappointment<br />
Stand across the street in the shadows<br />
Smoking stubby cigarettes<br />
Spitting out tobacco leaf ends<br />
Sharing filthy stories<br />
Comparing the lasting damage of their cruel tricks<br />
Meanwhile my beloved mother looks straight into<br />
The aperture not exactly sure<br />
Being so young, perhaps three or four<br />
What this all means<br />
Her face is not willfully composed for the camera<br />
Unsettled and unsure of what is to come<br />
In this next moment or the eighty years in front of her<br />
Including her marriage and four children and miscarriage<br />
Her divorce from my father<br />
The courtship and marriage to Walter<br />
Their move to the Arizona high desert and<br />
Then the slow exacting deaths of her own mother and sisters<br />
Like bright little lamps sputtering out<br />
One by one by one by one<br />
What would we do if we knew what would happen<br />
What could we do what could we do what could we do<br />
114 WINDWARD REVIEW | Vol. 18
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