In Time, a poem by contributor Gale Deitch


The face is much like mine

in this photo, yellowed and cracked,

her lines soft, breast ample.

At sixteen, she gazes dreamily at the camera,

her eyes radiate innocence and expectations,

her life in Poland uncertain.

America is her future.

She folds her hands demurely over the skirt

of her printed cotton dress with lace collar.

If only I could whisper into her ear

and tell her what is to come.

I would tell her that she will toil like a mule

on the streets of New York City.

I would tell her of her family of four fine sons

and her three husbands.

I can still hear her heavy shoes clack

across the linoleum of her apartment,

her short round body shifting

back and forth with each step.

She would call to me with an accent

thick as Manischewitz wine,

envelop me with kisses,

tucking a quarter into my palm.

And I would look into that face,

her legacy passed down to me.

                                                                 Gale Deitch

In Time, is scheduled for publication April, 2011 in the new anthology, “Life In Me Like Grass On Fire” by the Maryland Writer’s Association.

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