My grandmother, nearing death, found herself
Back in the cigarette factory in Lvov.
Seventy years in American exile
Had made her more deft;
She could roll cigarettes with either hand
And never have to look. It was forbidden
To smoke inside -- too much paper --
So the girls went outside on breaks to smoke
They were a hard group to impress. A ghost
Was nothing new to them; many
Had rooms near Pidhirtsi Castle
Which was and is notoriously haunted.
My grandmother stayed for ten days
Rolling cigarettes at a fantastic rate
And taking day trips to haunt my grandfather
Who was fifteen. She visited his dreams
And gave them a thorough cleaning even though
She knew he'd just fill them up again
With stray thoughts and stories
Including the one where he was a detective
Who could leap over rooftops and she.
Or someone quite like her,
Was in love with him six fathoms deep.
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