what to do with her hands.
The one wearing her mother's pearls;
front row, third from the left.
I want to freeze-frame the moment,
stay suspended under glass
and never leave.
Never have to say I know
where I'm going,
or what my purpose is.
The others, so sure of themselves,
are eager to take off
when the shutter closes.
But I know nothing of beginnings,
distance from here to where I fit
in the universe.
So I concentrate, fold
my hands, search the lens
for a place, and I pretend
to smile.
(c)Ann Shalaski 2007
from world made of glass
San Francisco Bay Press
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