keep a boarding house you fed pulp cutters
and ore dock men and railroaders up at 5
each morning packing lunch buckets
changed their beds fed them dinner too
for three bucks a week work work work
you yelled to my mother and aunt at dawn
sleeping behind the draped arch front room
(now my mother feeds you baby food)
Grandma you came over
on the boat to the promised land in >07
from Finland to be a maid in the U.P. Michigan
they beat you your cousin took you away
to the next town you were 19 you cleaned up
after rich people; work work work
you yelled at my grandfather a handsome lad
dark wavy hair who drank ‘til you
divorced him when people didn’t get divorced
(now my mother changes you)
Grandma you scrubbed
floors at the hospital a scouring maid
called dumb finn crabby lady on your hands
and knees a cow a garden and four kids
can’t even talk English waiting on people
all your life; work work work
you yelled at your grandchildren whose mother
was having a baby on your hands
and knees scrubbing clean floors
(now my mother spongebathes you)
Grandma your mother
wouldn’t marry your father in Finland
she was a weaver traveled then town to town
with you the fatherless child the outcast
laughed at and scorned so when I came to you
pregnant with my new young husband you held
my hand on your knee and said love each other
in a language I never learned: rakastakaa
before you died you wanted to make for
my mother serve her just one cup of coffee
© Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.