Redhead

 

Redhead

Of grandmas great-great
each child has eight,  
that’s how the tree spreads,
but this one of yours, dear girl,
in sepia photo with posture like steel
steamed to America at age fourteen,
married the coal-haired sailor who asked
Who set your head on fire?
Who froze the flame?

Her inky-haired daughter, your great grandma
with steely drive in the Great Depression
worked her way through university
studying ornithology
while raising crow-haired children.

Her youngest son wandered to California,
your grandpa bearded in sable
paired up with a steamy woman of Afro top
back to the land raising illegal crop,
then to legal vines, stable life.

Their daughter, your brunette mother
of dusky skin and choir voice,
a singing crusader for choice
wed to an organic farmer
who looks like a smiling porcupine.

But you, dear girl, dear niece,
dear sweet amazing pumpkin
with eyes of steel,
Who set your head on fire?
Who froze the flame?

……

First published in Amsterdam Quarterly —thank you Bryan R. Monte, editor
Photo by Oleg Osadchuk