the selkie's children

the family keeps an antique photograph
happy children frolic in the surf
on the wind-swept island
the elders recall as the family's home isle

even the eldest does not remember
it was she, the selkie matriarch,
who stood outside the frame
making faces at her children

tricking them to laughter
one time out of many
but this time, frozen on faded paper
was a time that explains why:

the photo was saved, even when other things died,
were lost
were broken and discarded,
for this happy picture,
though it does not contain her
was the only picture the family had of her
something no-one realized until weeks later
you see:

she found her skin the very next day
and slipped away

but those pictures came back
a few weeks after she was gone

and with her leaving
the family did not smile like that again
for years
for generations
for fear
that another abandonment loomed
just outside the frame
over the next wave
on the next ring of the telephone:

that evil device
that hadn't even been invented
when the selkie stood
outside the frame
of this, most precious
most enigmatic
keepsake of a happier age