Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Found Family

Joy is impossible to fake, they say.

Poetry | Poetry Tuesday, poetry
October 15, 2024

From front to back, receding layers
slabs of stone, scattered on the ground
blasted remains of some forgotten castle
and then behind it – a field, green and empty
the sky resting on its grassy shoulders
blemished only by the tail of a single cloud
billowing out of view.

At the centre of it all, a throne
made of rock, as if growing from the earth
and atop it – my parents, younger than I am now.
Could you say they ruled the world?
Her head upon his shoulder? He squints
in a blue-and-white tracksuit. She smiles,
grey blazer, black turtleneck, a pendant.
Their legs are hugging, ankles wrapped together,
sneakers matching, white and yellow.

Joy is impossible to fake, they say.
Your eyes will always betray you.

I never used to fear
the ways love can be lost in time
until I found it for myself
and wondered:

who dropped this?