Vishal Kumar Poet Epitaph

A Photograph

The cardboard shows me how it was
when the two girl cousins went 
paddling, 
each one holding one of my mother's 
hands, 
and she the big girl-some twelve 
years or so.
all three stood still to smile through 
their hair
at the uncle with the camera.A sweet 
face, 
my mothers's, that was before I was 
born.
and the sea, which appears to have 
changed less, 
wished their terribly transient feet.

some twenty-thirty-years later
she'd laugh at the snapshot.'see Betty
and Dolly.'she'd say, 'and look how 
they
dressed up for the beach.'The sea 
holiday
was her past, mine is her 
laughter.Both wry
with the laboured ease of loss.

Now she's beee dead nearly as many 
years, 
as that girl lived.And of this circu
mstance
there is nothing to say at all.
Its silence silences.

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