Snapped black and white in Kodak Verichrome,
more than seventy years ago, by an aunt
with a Kodak Brownie, I am supine
in a small pram. The park’s avenue
of lime trees in leaf suggests May
and therefore me, coverless, five months.
My fingers are clasped and bare feet are crossed,
like an effigy’s or a lounge lizard’s.
I am awake and eyeing the camera,
through half-shut lids, like an insulted
potentate – or an about-to-be-mardy
baby. Behind me,