Home | Poems | Notes | Photographs | Comment | Permissions





 
 
 
 

                               Ghetto Years

 

 

                         Chill winds of early winter

                         seep through the crevices

                         sweat of toil

                         lingers inside these walls

                         the light is dim

                         barely illuminates a faded sampler

                         from an immigrant's kitchen

                         around the table  the old samovar

                         Uncle is there with the check book face

                         amid the aroma of maiden aunts

                         on the crooked streets

                         the iceman stands

                         burlap shouldered in the shadows

                         horse hooves

                         strike the cobble stones at dawn

 

 

                         They live with me side by side

                         with a permanent ache

                         hand me downs from the Old World

                         I walk in the shadows of their footsteps

                         who tumbled along the way

 

 

                                                      Jack Mashman

                                                      Rev. 1992