my great-grandmother was one of many
leaving poland behind
for the stars and stripes of america
and the fog of ellis island
where they spelled her name wrong in the books before the ink ran out
she was the straight protruding nose
that i possess proudly today
she was the sunken eyes
and broad shoulders
in faded prints i see ida
i see the store she owned with milton
where she birthed and raised my grandmother
in the room in the back,
upstate, snow falling like ashes.
