This black and white photograph
Of a family long forgotten
Refuses to leave my short memory.
As if it were the only thread left
Unbroken... token.
Black and white, but not true.
Of three kids standing close to
Each other, but not close.
One with pubes for hair,
Another, stupid but dear,
Third, boy next door.
Looking straight, but feet pointing
In three different directions.
Ready to walk out, away...
Bound only by gloss.
Truth... in black and white,
On paper.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem