Genealogy

Born to chance, we find our ancestors, and make our own lives.

branches of family trees

make for sticky wickets;

to own the castle in scotland

is admitting the plantation in virginia;

blessing the universe for adding one cousin to schindler’s list,

requires cursing it for taking another with the spanish flu.

your is both village doctor and town drunk,

mobster and a child bride,

the great-uncle who drove his car into the passenger train,

the grandmother who willed her arthritic fingers to dance, setting fire to the piano keys.    

i would say legacy is incidental,

and serendipity, our coat of arms;

we chance into a harbor, full of ghost ships, a mere curiosity

before casting off,

a single bright boat

on an open sea.