A Missed Invitation
Mira and two of her nieces are outside. I stepped into Mom’s bedroom. She sat at her desk. The TV beside her played a Law and Order rerun. Her hair rested unbrushed and straight. She wore her house outfit: black slacks, with a causal navy-blue button-down blouse.
“How would you like to have a picture with the graduate?” I asked.
She gave me that “are you kidding me?” look.
“Not like this,” she answered, then continued, “I asked about graduation. But I never got an answer.”
She shrugged, tilting her head to one side.
I return to Mira and her nieces empty-handed. They stand silent for a moment.
Only a moment.
Daffodils
another tight smile
for the camera
first published in Image Curve, December 28, 2017
UPDATE: republished by Our Poetry Corner, February 23, 2018
Frank J. Tassone 
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