Much has been said about the invisibility of women
past  a certain stage in life. And it’s not only men
who look through them. It’s obvious how children, too,
favour the pretty young teacher. But occasionally,

we are ‘seen’, as happened today on my walk.
Stopped at the pedestrian lights on the opposite
street corner, was a dad and his baby daughter
(a child some twelve months old, strapped

to her father’s back). When the light turned green,
we crossed the road then walked four blocks abreast
(on opposite sides of the street, of course ) – the father,
not seeming to notice me at all, yet the child

kept watching everything I did, kept smiling
across the void to me, as though to say
“You’re nice”.  That  (and the way our cat will choose
my lap) can sometimes, now, suffice.

View this poem on The Disappearing »