ANCESTOR SONG FOR GRANDPA
I
Horrible journey
From haunted empty corridors of childhood
To open places
in
the sun at noon
Swimming with your image between my teeth
Drinking it in the new Mexican desert
I am buoyant on the Mekong River
I am sane in Bellevue
For you are always with me like my eyes
For you are always with me like my knife.
II
Mendel was one of the bewitched
A sad eyed greenhorn alchemist
Transmuting diamonds and his education
Into the final jobs in luncheonettes.
Mendel Berlinger knew seven languages
(A cunning linguist, according to grandma)
Yet he came to this country and tasted an orange
And he found it bitter and tough.
III
But where have you gone to?
Your hair is harpstrings and your shins are flutes
I am the one survivor of your groins
And when you died your soul gave life to forty-seven blackbirds
One for every year you suffered.
I saw them rise and go on your last morning
.\nd knew the singing things you had become.
IV
I should have eaten your flesh on the day when you died
You should not pass to nothing.
When they came to the home to tell me you had died
I should have eaten your flesh.
Before your brain and eyes had turned to insects
Before the rain had washed you away to the river
I should have eaten your flesh to keep you alive.
