Softening

There is a modicum of forgiveness

for the good PopPop -- his devotion

to my daughter versus the I-don’t-

even-know-what-to-call-it for me.

I don’t blame him. I blame

the wild gallop of his rage;

I blame the booze; I blame

his fierce, unspooled mother

who left him alone most nights

in grade school to fry sausage

patties or boil hot dogs

for his little sister’s supper.

This was Sunnyside, Queens,

1950. 70 years and 3,000 miles

later, my daughter stands on

her hand-painted wooden stool,

clings to the long pant leg

of her beloved grandfather--

doting now, sober as stone.

They are wearing matching

aprons. They are stuffing

shells with ricotta. They are

softening on the counter

glossy sticks of butter

to cream with sugar, soon

to frost huge layer cakes,

licking each sweet, milky

beater like fat, happy cats.

Cindy Milwe has been published in many journals and magazines, including 5 AM, Exit 7, Alaska Quarterly Review, Poetry East, Poet Lore, The William and Mary Review, Flyway, Talking River Review, and The Georgetown Review, among others. I also have poems in two anthologies: Another City: Writing from Los Angeles (City Lights, 2001) and Changing Harm to Harmony: The Bullies and Bystanders Project (Marin Poetry Center Press, 2015). My first book of poems, Salvage, has just been published by Finishing Line Press.