The photos emerge
from their hiding place in the cellar,
sepia fish, or paper ghosts
with white deckled borders.
Our fathers, long dead, boast
the cheerful sibilance of baldness,
a halo in the camera’s flash.
Our mothers, bedecked
in aprons and strange eyeglasses,
flap like crows’ wings.
–excerpt from “Recollected” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective/Purple Flag, 2015). First published in Journal of the American Medical Association.