Work Text:
Missing
by Scribe
It's the eyes that haunt you,
(large and dark, soft and light),
in newspapers, magazines, and on fliers
tacked to telephone poles,
sometimes solemn, sometimes gay.
Braces, or perhaps one or two
pristine baby teeth, proudly displayed.
Scant infant curls, glossy braids, cowlicks...
Blonde, brown, ebony, copper.
Different, yet the same, and always the words,
'Missing, last seen...'
You look at the picture,
imagining some man or woman
with tear streaked cheeks
numbly reciting age, height, weight, hair, eyes,
as the friends and family marshall all reserves,
set up search parties, man phone lines, comb
neighborhoods.
The tragic pas-de-deux emerges as a circle dance
with the missing one, yet unfound,
at its center,
while everywhere the people see haunting eyes
set in a television screen
or grubby flier,
and hold their children close.