Journal of Italian Translation

Journal of Italian Translation
someone you can find,
sometimes, if you look
at the clothes she made
or bought, the colors that go
with your eyes, your hair
slicked with a wet comb
or braided with ribbons.
At your features, your expression.
She wanted you to smile
off the frame, inside the frame
and sometimes you did.
Divestiture
She unpinned the folds
of white linen
eloquent of place,
loosened the loops
and braided knots,
and combed her hair
into a bun.
She untied her apron,
took off one by one
the pleated skirts,
the black jacket
with wide velvet cuffs,
the padded camisole,
the long shirt
articulate with lace.
Then stepped into a dress
skimpier than a slip,
and naked,
exposed like that,
my grandmother
came to America.
Linens
Plain weaves, twills and herringbones,
woven at home linen on linen, linen
on cotton. Some are still uncut—a band
of warp threads separating one napkin,
one towel from the other—but most are decorated
with needlepoint lace. My mother’s older sister
had the broad back and strong constitution