FAMILY MATTERS

It is 1890; my grandmother Esther is one year old
And Max, whom she will someday marry,
Is two -- twice her age; it is obvious
They’ll never suit each other. Her mother
Is alive or dead. She anxiously asks me
Which but I don't know; after consideration
I allow my great grandmother more time
To walk the broad streets of Lvov and to look
At the river about which her daughter will dream
When she’s thousands of miles away.
Irina, Esther's sister, is already born
Or perhaps not. There may be other children;
I'll lodge them in Paris until I discover
Whether they existed. If they did,
I'll bring them home. If they didn't, at least
They'll have had some very good meals
And the consolation of speaking French
With Parisian grace and assurance.