Grandma Curcio

Grandma Curcio You look out at me From a yellow, cracked photograph Even my mother Doesn't remember your first name She cannot be faulted You were dead Long before she married your son Who were you, really? Are you hidden in The hard lines etched In your grim, granite, grandma face? Did those eyes pierce the soul Of your alcoholic husband And cause him to bleed? Is that why he terrorized You and your children? I can only know you Through my father's few words "She was a wonderful, sweet woman" I can only know you Through his actions as a teenager When he beat his father - perhaps as badly As grandpa had beaten you all: "If you ever touch Ma again, I'll kill you" My father did not have to Carry out his threat Grandma Curcio You lived on In the man my father became And now that he is gone You live on in me Who will gaze upon My yellow cracked photograph? Will they know my name And wonder who I was? And who will they be?