poetry
Jo and Matti
Originally published in the Gloucester 400+ Stories Project
They bravely crossed the ocean
Escaping Russian rule
An older blacksmith, Matti
And Jo, a lovesick fool
They married Christmas Eve
And lived on Langsford Street
Young Matti worked the quarries
So both of them could eat
He quickly learned the language
And taught some to his bride
She’d greet him, “Welcome home”
His heart would swell with pride
Her viili was perfection
Her nissua was sweet
And when they danced the polska
He’d sweep her off her feet
A master of the stone
He worked the whole week through
Jo scrubbed his dusty trousers
And packed his lunches too
They were not long alone
For soon the children came
A tribe of sons and daughters
To bear the family name
When Matti started coughing
Jo looked at him and sighed
“You ought to see a doctor”
“No money,” he replied
In Nineteen-Hundred Seven
They lived on Munsey Lane
His cough became persistent
Combined with chills and pain
One morning in the springtime
Jo woke to find him cold
He’d left his body in the night
At forty-nine years old
The pregnant widow crumbled
The babies toddled ‘round
Jo laid her head upon his heart
But didn’t hear a sound
Originally published in the Gloucester 400+ Stories Project, 2024
Reprinted in A Decade in Gloucester: Reflections on History and Home, 2024
