the opera singer

my grandmother

sang

opera

as she went about her

housework,

scrubbing

the marble slab

stoop in 
South Philadelphia,

mopping the floors,

dusting the lamp

shades

and curtains.

cooking at the stove.

the birds in her cage,

whistled with

her.

how nice it would be

to hear her

contralto voice

in Italian, once

more.