“And when the night was over and the white wine was over and the dancing was over, she sat in the corner like a child, with everything gone.” Richard Avedon
and smile we do,
and cheese we say,
and the shutter clicks.
It’s only one hundred and twenty-fifth
of a second.
the gaping album opens wide,
with gaping smiles from side to side,
as we dissimulate.
And all our smiles are seen as true,
because the camera never lies,
but the photo Avedon took
is not the smile and not the eyes,
or the wine or dancing wild,
much less the dress and what it says
but just a photo of the child.