On her dresser, a messy shuffle of photographs,
some ginger chocolates, a handkerchief,
a vase with dead flowers, a little earthquake of makeup:
lipstick, blush, a calming mask, an empty brush.
On the wall grandchildren's art and a tiny Union Jack,
And a letter, dated November 1940, that her conversation
Often turns to, rebuilding or reviving a memory
she swears she will not lose track of.
She has some harsh words for God.
She's had enough of good behavior.
He's had enough from her.
She won't be burdened any longer
with either his demands or his favors.
And as I turn to leave she has this left to say,
"Please tell my daughter to stop
all the silly talk about me surviving."
"From my Young Grandfather to my Young Grandmother", Editor.
Simon Constam is a 69-year-old from Toronto. His great-uncle edited a volume of the Yiddish poet, Yehoash's poetry. His father, a lover of Goethe and Heine, read poetry to him from his earliest years. After an extended hiatus, Simon returned to writing ten years ago. He has since been published in magazines and online journals including the Jewish Literary Journal and Poetica.