See Child Cry, by Janis Greve

See Child Cry 

The child cries straight 
into the camera.  She has nothing 
 
to lose, throwing her whole face in. 
Her hurtling eyebrows astonish:  
 
dark fronds outleaping all worry,   
all anguish, almost rushing together  
 
in prayer, their small hairs so immaculate. 
In her half-mast eyes, tears and alarm  
 
are wed, discharge long rivers that frame  
her crusted nostrils, 
 
come to rest like pearls of tapioca 
dotting both sides of her chin. 
 
Yet somehow this close-up  
doesn’t care for her. The rounded cheeks  
 
stiffen into plastic, her chin is a  
varnished bun. Her mane of curls,  
 
lapping back into shadow, thrusts her grief forward,  
too bold, too oblong, to soften the heart.   
 
You want to paw at her,  
not hold her, slip quarters  
 
into the dark slot of her mouth. 
 
Thank goodness for the neat, white  
cardigan, patted smooth by fastidious hands.   
 
Thank god for the small, winged ear 
tucked so tenderly at one side,  
 
making you wonder who you can be 
if you can’t love a frightened baby.   

Janis Greve

This poem was written in response to the specific photograph, A Child Crying, New Jersey, by Diane Arbus. Click here to view.

Janis Greve teaches literature at UMass Amherst, specializing in autobiography, disability studies, and service-learning. She has previously published in such places as The Florida Review, North American Review, The Berkshire Review, and more.