Here is a shoebox of photographs
not yet organized into the album.
The box suggests memories are angular.
Here is my brother at his high school
graduation—Don’t You Forget About Me.
Here he is in front of the house before
leaving for college in Chicago.
(Where is the punctum, where’s the object/image
within a photograph that leaps out and punctures you?)
This is me in the yard posing with the roses.
My face is not pretty enough to need thorns.
Isn’t that why roses have them, their faces
are so pretty? (Where is that “accident
which picks, bruises” you?) Here is a picture
of my grandmother on a horse, a picture
of my grandmother on a balcony, a picture
of her in a field 1925 & she is the only one smiling—
Carolina Ebeid is a the author of You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior (Noemi Press, Fall 2016). She is a student in the PhD program in creative writing at the University of Denver, and holds an MFA from the Michener Center for Writers. She has won fellowships and prizes from CantoMundo, Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, the Stadler Center for Poetry, and the National Endowment for the Arts. Her work appears widely in journals such as The Kenyon Review, Gulf Coast, Colorado Review, and more recent work appears in Linebreak, Bennington Review, jubilat, and in the inaugural Ruth Stone House Reader.