You will remember this as the most obedient relationship,
most quiet, complacent, cooperative couple,
most easily categorized roles.
You will look back on pristine arms touching,
hair falling in your face, sun in your eyes,
and wonder how did they ever manage to love?
How did the two in this picture, so deadpan,
poker faces for the camera,
manage to feel?
And how did you lower your body
shoulders and neck
lips and cheeks
down to a place you wouldn’t recognize
even if he had recorded it?
You will compare the calm of these two,
still freshly well-behaved Trojan
horses boxed and shipped by
reluctant mothers gripping tight
against the current chaos of your rebellion.
No picture seems to turn out
with the man next to you now—
the colors are different, but—
before compromising you yell,
your first answer is no,
and you will think that one is
better than the other.
Ani Keaten is a poet grown in the desert mountains of Idaho. She writes about daily life. www.anikeaten.weebly.com
*Featured artwork courtesy of Toby Penney*