July 31, 2009 4:52 PM
For a Dear Cousin
I saw you last night on a screen
in pictures I hadn't seen.
I saw you and you looked to be enjoying.
You were handsome and confident and glad.
Your eyes danced like sparkling coffee and
your lips looked stained by roses
and your clothes would've made Lewis Carroll proud
and Oscar Wilde too and your favorite superheroes
and I, who was glad when you won an art contest
and the village put your work on its main street banners.
You made it with your eyes and your hands and your heart
and your mind and that magic that makes us say
"Yes! That's it! That's the one! We'll take it!"
You took it, life, and lived it true,
in those pictures I saw that I hadn't seen.
And I still see you coming down your Grandmother's stairs,
with a heavy tray of food on Christmas Eve.
The fun began with you on the stairs and you wore
something violet-red-iridescent-fun
that shifted with the festive changing lights.
And you stood firm and strong
and nodded your head,
patiently absorbing my squeaky jokes and girly laughs
and hyperactive glee,
because I missed you,
and how nice it was to see you again.
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