Oilcloth

 

“Italian Immigrant Family” by Michael Pitocchi

 

 

(Regarding my grandmother’s kitchen)

 

subdued plaid

barely blue in that

otherwise colorless

well-worn white kitchen

it draped the huge table

where decades of life

spilled and sallied its noise

fifteen chairs none alike

for an immigrant family

precocious with earnest

opinions none alike

every meal heard the

spirited words of debate

in Italian and English

exchanged across clad

neutral tabletop vibrantly

bounced and returned

back and forth never mean

but each argument sturdy

and strong as that durable

utilitarian covering serving

as witness and host to the

process emerging de facto

of naturalization of stirring

the old and new worlds

of ideas and perspectives

to yield a rich blend of a

new generation of citizens

now slightly darker better

fed more emotional deeper

with roots of stout pride in

its empire and renaissance

histories filled with more

fiery passions and

firmly held values

new green white red

colors to liven the

subdued plaid

barely blue otherwise

colorless well-worn

American kitchen

 

 

From my book Onionskin