Family Photo, 1899 by Joan Colby

Five daughters, every one with hair

To her hips. Cumbersome dresses

Meant for Sundays. No one is smiling.

The mother’s hair skinned into a thick bun.

The smallest child on her lap. The father

Gallant with sideburns, chin whiskers,

A wave over one eye. Cravat and

Polished boots.That they lived, all of them,

In a one-room log cabin in the Uinta Mountains

Is not apparent, dressed in their finest, hair

Freshly washed and brushed so that

Every girl could be Rapunzel.

Two infant sons already buried.

The father will die by gunfire

At the age of 40. The mother will be nursing

Her last child: my father

Who will be photographed later

In a white lace baptismal gown.

Joan Colby has published widely in journals such as Poetry, Atlanta Review, South Dakota Review, Gargoyle, Pinyon, and others. Awards include two Illinois Arts Council Literary Awards and an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship in Literature.  Her newest books are “Carnival” which was published by FutureCycle Press in 2016 and “The Seven Heavenly Virtues” just out from Kelsay Books. Her next book “Her Heartsongs’ will be published by Presa Press in 2018.  Colby is a senior editor of FutureCycle Press. Website: www.joancolby.com.  Facebook: Joan Colby. Twitter: poetjm.