a stray cloud

passes

above our heads

as the metal

camera

captures us

in its frame

 

your

sun-soaked auburn

melded with gray

freshly combed

feet above

my unruly brown

curls

 

your

wrinkled

arm

wrapped around my

smooth one

blank

no history written

 

yours,

cracked porcelain

the western wall

lodged with slips

of paper

 

inscribed with

the hopes and dreams

of your mother

who did not make it

through the war

 

with the tales of

your orphaned

childhood

 

with righteous gentiles

who slipped

you meals

beneath

the fence

in a pot

after the sun

sank over the

Romanian countryside

 

with

prayer books hidden

beneath floorboards

and yellow stars sewn

to your lapels

 

four mother tongues

and three countries

a war-torn nomad

 

with arms

that wrap

around mine

your stories traversing

the humid air between us

the flash captures

our bodies

in eternal film