Thank you for taking time to read the material posted here. I would be pleased if you could comment, and I promise to comment back. Sincerely, Nancy


Tuesday, March 15, 2011


1954 Beneath a Pull String

Your thumb curled back,
Lick it…
Lick it…
Turn pages of your bible
while you sit on garments,
pressing them.
Everything is home made -
curtains above a radiator
move in the night. . .
back and forth, back and forth
your apron covers a navy
blue dress – you must be
going to church – but right
now your are stirring homemade
cocoa –
stir it - stir – stir –

Grandmother’s footsteps reach
the landing on the second
floor, her voice calls out
Grand daughter, it’s time
little legs bend as hands help
to climb a twisting staircase.

You sat there beneath a pull string
a string that hit your head each
time you sat to join me for my
morning cocoa. On your back
a red sweater, half buttoned,
holes at your elbow, on the
left side.

You twisted in your chair
back and forth, now I know
it was to get comfortable, and
you smiled.

You were never tall but the
string, the one to pull for
light in your kitchen kept
swinging back and forth.

You would connect a long
tube, but now I know it was
a cord to your radio – every
afternoon and night – listening
to church songs.

Often I noticed your ankles
were never thin? Never did
ask you why?

You would connect another
long cord to a toaster, to the
pull string for light and music.
Your curled thumbs flipped toast
from side to side as you open
up to investigate, to see if the
toast was done.

Strange how a cord so
insignificant would be a
memory connecting you and me.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved 2011

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