The first child, by her naming, split
the family, Italian grandmother
against Germanfather. Sixteen years now, she sits
in her grandmother's room, remembering
summer visits:the dark house; her grandmother in
a white slip in the Cleveland heat; the smell
of Brach candiesand Pall Mall cigarettes. The sound
of the screen door. Mariah's grandmother
calls her by hermother's name. She begs for one more
cigarette, tells the family secrets,
swears Mariahto endless silence. Mariah
closes her eyes, listens to the murmur
of night nurses.She hears the screen door swing. The old
woman grips her hand to aching. She breathes
that city heat.