for
Anthony Kostrzewski, June 13,1875 – February 6, 1955
So cold those long-ago winters
my parents had to pin my blanket
to the crib mattress to keep me warm
Later I kept warm
by dancing in the parlor to Chopin
on Polish radio
in front of the coal stove
for my dziadza
whom I loved in any season
Much later my mother
told me how as a conscript in the tsar's army
her father kept warm
by bleeding a horse
and drinking its blood mixed with mare's milk and
groats
if he had any
-
Mid-November.
Dawn.
Grey then pink
that 1950's color combo
so popular still
-
shoelaces in an argyle pattern
on
her black
and
white oxfords -
That's where they want us
back when they had a firm grip
and everything was good
Women happy like commercials
-
shirtwaist pale apricot
combed
cotton
and a
hoopskirt
for
added oomph -
Men believed it when they
got all the credit
The Powers were certain
it would go on
forever
Running the ship
and keeping it in shape
meant wars
around the globe
in Profit's name
A terrible tocsin
booming and jeering
at everything
that truly matters
This very day
The sun rising
with a pink bravado
in the grey sky