A Precious Book

The book is old. Its thin red cardboard cover

is plain, with no illustration, only

small gold letters hard to read

among the discolourations and creases.

The writing inside is small too. The Contents page 

promises sections of photos, but this  

is a proof copy. There are no photos and no 

publication date (deliberately obscured by the printer).

All the warmth and colour are in the words.

All the pictures too — family snapshots, action movies —

and the history, all the dates when things happened:

great and small things, public and private.

This is the autobiography of a famous matriarch

reminiscing about her famous family. She says

she's correcting lies. I don't know — those lies —

we are inclined still to believe them.

But she writes with love and tells her own story

of the incidents and scandals we think we know.

Sweet lady, much hurt ... I like her. No, I won't tell you 

her name. This book is valuable; I want to keep it.