1.
once, I prayed
and then I almost felt her elbow
against my elbow
vestige of sleep, the days enter the sea,
mother of my mother
her hair is white silver in the pear orchards,
in fields of oat and silver hairgrass near Braila
fill the houses with sleep
practice our language modestly
2.
on West 21st Street,
an industrial stair
my father hired the guy out on parole
one day we found Monday, the tabby, who disappeared
behind the shelves of lumber and molding
and Harry's matting table
no one could hear her but me
Harry had a story, he came alone from God knows which part of the old country
who he left behind who he was before who was lost
my father never told me
depth of hill between 99th and 101st feels like my ancient home
3.
the boats are everywhere
small rust-colored islands
the pigeons keep flying upriver