Issue One - Josh Klein
Memento
each time I lock eyes on old family photos
I find myself unexplainably enamored
by the arch of my father’s hairline
and his father’s before him
and how my sister’s small head
even then turned toward the window
in a way that made me know
she longed for acceptance elsewhere, to leave;
her set of jaw, her angle of brow
that surname she longed to shed.
I’m sure I contemplated even then
about what every volatile blink of eye might advocate
and just what would become of her
when age and opportunity closed the shutter
and the only place to focus
was in