lineage by Stacey Cormier
lineage
I imagine pieces of
my grandmother’s life;
moments of the ordinary,
like tragedies
she never revealed
diced potatoes in a pot,
crepe floral in the slant
of afternoon light,
the faint crackle of a radio
(what was her favorite song?)
I never knew
of a brother, a silvered image
on bicycle, who died in youth.
and the other; a telegram from war said
lost at sea
this nostalgia for what was
never mine,
recollections un-recalled
seeped in through bloodline