A GRANDFATHER

My mother’s father Joe and I didn’t suit each other

He was small and neat and had clever hands

As well as a suspicious mind. A watchmaker,

He thought the world did not keep accurate time;

Something wrong with the gears perhaps

Or – he deemed this likely – the Great Maker

Had put something into the works backwards

He took precautions; his own watch was always

Set fast so that he knew to never trust it

His brothers and sisters had been born

At European ports as his family slowly felt its was

Towards America. The eldest was Russian

There were Germans too, and one from Liverpool

Before my Grandfather, the New Yorker.

When Joe’s young wife died Ase, his brother,

Der Englisscher, took him in. Ase played poker

But for Joe he learned to play chess. Mabel,

Ase’s smart and stringy wife, did added cooking

And cleaning for two years until Joe could manage

Crookedly to survive. I am not sure

He ever managed to forgive them for this.

On his deathbed – my father was a witness –

Joe woke for a moment and muttered

“What a wonderful, wonderful world!”