Her arms were thick, her bosom a pillow.
On aching bunions, she stood in the kitchen
tending a pot flavored with oregano.
Born a New Yorker of Florentine origin,
she came to Chicago, still a young girl
but clung to some of her New York ways.
She’d say poice and poiple for purse and purple
and sometimes yous guys and oy vey.
In the photo by the Rambler with grandpa
she flashes her smile, shows off her legs.
She was a bit of a ham, my Nana,
but read her Bible to finish each day.
She sang "Ave Maria" and "Jesus Loves Me"
to herself as she made ravioli.

From A Brief History of Mail (Pebblebrook Press, 2011).
Used here with the author's permission.