Julia by Mark Bonica


The Memory Collector – Where Am I In All Of This by Caryn Drexl
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Julia

She would be in her nineties now
but I only imagine her at four –
still awkward,
the roundness of her face
waiting to be stretched out
over family cheek bones.

Since photographs
were luxuries beyond
their means,
I can only guess
that her long hair
had a wave to it,
like ripples over a dark pond,
as mine once did.

I’ve only heard about you,
Aunt Julia,
in the way family scars are shared –
the teller of the tale
surprised to be telling,
but needing to tell
in order to help make sense.

My grandmother, your sister,
was twelve
and in charge.
Because adolescence
had not been invented in 1926.

What were you looking for
with your long hair flowing
when you opened the coal stove?

Deep in the waters of story
this is the moment
when madness sparked,
burning generations.
 


Mark Bonica

Mark Bonica is a father, husband, soldier, photographer, and oddly, economics professor. His poetry has appeared in a variety of online and print magazines including Words-Myth, Righthandpointing, Oak Bend Review, Star*Line, and others. He has recently published a chap book, Oneironaut, and a collection of short fiction, Love Stories in Extraordinary Time. He blogs at recalcitrantegg.blogspot.com and his photography is at bonicaphoto.com.