Picture of Family Life

Our three room Warsaw apartment,
The living room which doubled
As Father’s and my bedroom at night,
A gloomy autumn Sunday,
Boredom I learned to disguise
To avoid lectures.
Father tells us to gather around
We’re going to have family time.
He directs and sets the stage,
A desk lamp is brought over to help
The weak overhead light.
We are sitting in a circle:
Mother on the sofa bed reading,
Sister sawing some piece of clothing
She was told was too expensive for her to buy,
I’m darning my socks, a skill
That was actually taught at school,
Father hovers over us, his own job
Is to select music from our new radio
With a glowing green cat’s-eye.
Father is humming with the music
He is happy, that is clear,
The rest of us are looking for pretexts to escape.

Many things have puzzled me about these episodes,
The chief one being where,
Having grown up in an orphanage,
Did he get his idea of what family life looked like.
Now I think I know:
As a kid, he must have read a book,
Some 19th century saga of family life,
And there must have been an illustration
A woodcut or metal engraving
Showing a family, bathed in light
Sawing and reading and listening to music,
And he must have said to himself,
One day I will have it.