Angela Kelsey

Tell the Story

White Wedding Slippers

Filed in Stories, voices :: February 27, 2012











At night
my mother opened a chest and took out
her white silk wedding slippers.
Then she daubed them
a long time with ink.

Early in the morning
she went in those slippers
to the street
to line up for bread.
It was ten degrees,
she stood
for three hours in the street.

They were handing out
one quarter of a loaf per person.

–Anna Swirszczynska
Tr. Czeslaw Milosz
   Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness

Filed in Stories, voices

1 Comment

  1. Illuminary

    And I wonder, after reading Jeannes post, do you suppose the preacher came over and ate it?