Finding Her Picture

She always lifts her chin in photographs.
Defiant. Do your worst. As a girl
She stalked behind the pink and duct-taped
Flip-flops of her mother, the fraying cuffs of
Dirty sweat pants, that joggling vast behind, and glared at
The shoppers, daring them to disrespect her mom.

She is distinguished now, books to her name,
Prizes for teaching, elegantly scarved. Only
Late at night sometimes she buckles, goes for
Ice cream that she'll eat straight from the carton,
And walks again behind that phantom in the store.