last saw you smiling, singing, or was it leaping from the porch.
I last saw you running, skipping, or jumping like a mad hare in
yard. I last saw you walking the dog, throwing a stick, or pulling
on your denim jacket. I last saw you rocking in your crib, dashing
off to school, or walking down the aisle. I last saw you standing
in the driveway, sitting on the bed, or dancing away into the crowd.
I last saw you wearing a flower in your hair, eating a fish, or
me off. I last saw you stop, look up, tip your hat and give me
a wink. It was some old joke between us. In that place where walls
the world is inside out and one season is constant. I grow old
but you remain the same. Flash-—caught in the blink of an
eye. Snapshot—you are the burn of an afterimage lit in the
glow of your complement that lives inside my eyes.
Barbara Earl Thomas, 2005
Last Seen: Altar of Memory, 2005
H 10’ x W 6’x L 8’
Wood, painted glass, twigs, metal, bird’s nests and wire
Painted Glass, eye window
in roof apex
detail: 4’.5" x 1’.5"