Coffee Klatch

In memory of Lieselotte Porter 1925-2018

another empty chair
another empty corner
only resurrection
assured this Easter morn
are my ghosts
who brokers the
introductions? I wonder
as my past collides
into my present
room made at
my grandmother’s
round kitchen table
for one more
they drink Maxwell House
drip
Cremora and cheap
cut glass sugar dish
forgotten on the
worn flannel-backed
vinyl tablecloth
colors faded, surface
cracked with age
most of my dead
drink their coffee black
does she pull out the
bottle of cheap vodka
she carries in her purse
offer it the others?
Tell us about yourself
they ask
she talks about
her childhood
young adulthood
in 1930s Germany
her Jewish friends
and neighbors
who disappeared in the night
never to be seen again
mandatory service
in Hitler’s Youth
Kristallnacht
her brother who died young
in the war
they listen respectfully
over mismatched mugs
and cigarettes
serve her a cannoli
recommend the sfogliatelle
as endless after unfolds