by Katie Kemple
On my Instagram feed, one family
posts smiling photos from ski slopes,
snowy white backgrounds that match
perfect teeth. Another family travels
to a tropical paradise: bikinis, blue
waters and palm trees. And then, a
photo of a family packing their car
trunk in Kramatorsk, Ukraine. Coats
on and loading plastic bags of their
belongings. What to leave? Baby teeth,
cleats, a wedding dress. The oven's
set to nothing for the winter. The clock
goose steps the seconds forward.
Each last look like a photo now,
the kind on film with limited takes.
Katie Kemple's poems have appeared in recent issues of Atlanta Review, Ligeia Magazine, and The Shore.
