An awkward photo depicts me as an Army private
squeezed in my polyester dress green uniform
with few medals and commendations
emblazoned on my still-burgeoning chest.

My posture is ramrod.
My earnestness is apparent.
Home on leave, I stand incongruously
as a warfighter straight out of basic
in front of white walls in lily-white suburbia.

Everything about the photo is awkward.
Everything about the photo is embarrassing
except how my mother displayed it
in a cheap pharmacy frame with
Swelling pride on her mantle.