Babushka

By Kim Malinowski

My great-grandmother stared at the crossroads before her, 
traffic passing by thick and heavy. Closed her eyes, 
chin towards heaven singing an old Polish hymn. 
Stepped out in front of the cars, steadily weaving 
between without a thought.

She asked her husband for money to get groceries.  
He yelled about how much she spent, how hard 
he worked, berated her for her service.  But she 
straightened out her stooped back and held out her hand. 
When he ignored her, she waved it. He nodded at her.
“Fine!” he yelled, but took out his wallet, and threw
a few bills onto the floor. He spat and harrumphed,
went into the living room, carrying the plate of cookies
she’d baked.  She shook her head.

Her American daughter-in-law, told her 
she didn’t have to put up with him. She wanted nothing 
to do with that American-ness, nothing at all.  
She liked his hardness, his unbending.  
She yelled at her to stop meddling in her marriage.  
The girl was shocked, staring as she went out the door.

She coached her daughter-in-law in cooking,
each limp noodle, each broken dish, 
apple pie covered the floor, the girl was witched.  
She gently explained the way cabbage should look, 
fresh and deep green, even when boiled. 
Her hands kneaded the bread.

Kim Malinowski earned her B.A. from West Virginia University and her M.F.A. from American University. She studies with The Writers Studio. Her debut poetry collection is forthcoming from Kelsay Books 2021. Her chapbook Death: A Love Story was published by Flutter Press. Her work has appeared in War, Literature, and the Arts, Golden Walkman Magazine, Mookychick, Bluepepper, Zingara Poetry Review, and others.