SNAPSHOT OF MY GRANDMOTHER, 1910

I'm surprised to see you this way,
lady in black.
I didn't think you ever sat on the grass
in that severe skirt
and tiny jacket with leg-o-mutton sleeves,
not even for your picture-taking husband,
who liked to record
such Sunday scenes.

There is your eldest, my aunt,
a serious, wistful face, hair tied back
to a great bow on the back of her head.
Your arm is around her, the other
around my uncle,
a proper boy with velvet-collared coat
and small tweed cap.
His arms are folded, eyes closed
In feigned sleep
or boredom.

To finish this pastoral tableau,
the impish face of my mother
smiles at the camera from over your shoulder.
Straight black bangs
jut from beneath a white bonnet;
her tiny hands clasp themselves around your neck.
Your head is tilted slightly
To keep your enormous flower-basket hat
from covering her face.

You look satisfied but stern.
Is there a hint of smile there?
Was dignity the style in 1910?
If so, Grandpa should have told you
of that gremlin face next to yours.
It thwarts all pretense of dignity.

			Lucille Murphy

			my grandmother is Elizabeth Conley Mollan