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Making Pierogi
Mama uses a corkscrew-shaped finger to scoop filling,
creamy cheese, from a bowl on the table, then licks.
Gramma had bought dry ingredients and butter
from the Market on Broadway just after it opened.
Visits take Gramma on journeys in her mind,
back to the old country, shopping in Krakow,
a child, lost among all the pani’s her mama knew,
eye level with flowered housedress waists.
Mama measures flour, salt, mixes grains, white
in an aluminum bowl, cuts butter in with fingers.
When it forms into little beans, she adds egg,
sour cream, kneads till it’s a soft pillow.
She grasps the rolling pin’s red spindles;
stiff hands push. Her face, a twisted cloth
as she works the dough, stamps out circles,
fills each with cheesy mix, folds, seals.
When Gramma rode the ship with her mama,
they prayed each night on crystal rosaries.
Two generations travelling to a new land,
bringing little but themselves and what they knew.
Mama drops pierogis, six at a time into boiling water
where the pockets cook, then fills our plates,
says, “Smacznego”, like Gramma did years ago,
like I will in years to come.
Lynn Ciesielski has a background in Special Education. She has an MS from SUNY College at Buffalo and has taught in city schools for over eighteen years. Currently she is retired and spends most of her time writing, travelling and enjoying her family. Her chapbook I Speak in Tongues was recently released by Foothills Publishing. She has also appeared in Iodine Poetry Journal, Barbaric Yawp, Buffalo News and have work is upcoming in Obsessed with Pipework and Wild Goose Poetry Review.
Email: Lynn Ciesielski
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