Poetry

Posing Is Paramount

Posing for Granny’s camera
in front of her stone fireplace
over-burdened with knick-knacks,
but thinking about my latest
math test, the ankle I scraped
on my bike chain, wondering
if the blue flash bulb
will blind me this time.

When will I once again
be in trouble for pestering
my little brother on the car ride home,
forgetting to shovel the walk
before dinner or talking
during the news hour?

Will Monday’s school bus
bring bullies re-energized?
Will my teacher lambaste me
with a B?  Can I disappear
into the furthest corner of my room,
re-emerge once the picture
develops?

My Cub Scout uniform is hot
and scratchy, colours knotted
at my neck, but posing is paramount
to keep the grown-ups happy,
not waste expensive film.
Maybe I can earn a merit badge
in martyrdom, another in
suitable solemnity.

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