Welcome to America

Don't stare Bewildered, beautiful, Henry,
Rose, my grandparents, Don't cough

their real names thrown overboard like rags.
I wish I'd worked Don't rub an eye

on Ellis Island so when that body
Don't shuffle in ankle length overcoat

let loose the slurs and grunts of Talmudic
study, the glide of bread, Don't breathe

that way the deep forests, I could say,
Welcome to America Don't stand too straight

then trumpet back to them, their names,
write down the stones and roads,

their villages, Don't hover their parents'
names and their grandparents'

blessings and burden, Don't crouch
come with them into the new world.

Deborah Bacharach
10x3 plus, 2012