the old photos
the very old.
with cracked glass
and the look of a dimly
somber afternoon.
pallid faces.
the women are wearing head coverings.
those reserved
for lament.
and as a procession dissects the crowd,
men bear along as if precisely after a war.
trees are leafless,
and it is still a photo,
but it is silent.
windless.
reverence.
at least here,
reverence.
the man is still,
laid flat.
at length he is carried by a nation.
the theater is silent.
the laborers at rest.
the pugilist,
waits.
somewhere outside the edge,
unframed.
men of color wait
and wonder.
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