Monday, September 8, 2014

Last of the Line

What I will probably do is launch a separate blog to write about my mom and our family. Meanwhile..

Last of the Line

I only understood
Long after they’d left
Long after I could have
Asked them the questions
That would have joined the stories.

They ask to be told, but I can only write
And thread them inexpertly,
Like a reluctant tailor’s apprentice:

Great grandma in May Day parades,
Great grandpa making Prohibition wine,
Grandpa at HUAC (House UnAmerican Activities Committee)
 not naming names,
Grandma helping the evicted
back inside.

Will a city embrace them
like some kind friend
or recite them,
Like Kaddish,
And score them with voice
Into hereafter,
Dreams written
Into memory
By the last of the line?

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