by David R. Surette


by David R. Surette

We showed her grandmother

the treasures we found

at one of the local thrift stores

where we shopped with our meager

undergraduate funds.

She said she likes a bargain too

but avoided that shop,

It’s too Frenchie.

My mother tells the story

of a homely Irish aunt who warned

that, if she marries my father,

their kids will be dark.

My mother held her tongue

and didn’t say, better that than

looking like the likes of you.

When our first wiggled

out the cesarean slice

she looked raw and unhappy.

Someone asked if she

was going to stay that dark.