Wire Shopping Cart

Remembering the anniversary of my Grandmother’s passing with this sonnet from my book “Late Model”.

 

Wire Shopping Cart

 

Grandma’s house-paint gray wire cart trails her down St. Clair street,

kerchiefed neighbors say hello as she moves from store to store.

Bargaining with first name merchants she visits the same time once a week

a pound, an ounce, a bag, a box all find their way to the wire basket’s floor.

 

Her grandson walking with her through the neighborhood

bakery’s blueberry bun dripping purple goodness down his chin

a reward for translating Yiddish so she is not misunderstood

scribbled list of laundry soap, potatoes, rice, lokshen and chicken.

 

Now the wire cart a heavy pull, their journey home not too far.

They stop for a lunch of Fish and Chips from the Englishman.

Enjoying every bite of the fried delight with salt and vinegar,

smiling down at the little one she calls “the orphan”.

 

She wonders at times if there was a chance of custody

but lack of language and lawyers made her let it be.