Above the dining room table in my grandmother’s kitchen hung a photo of my grandfather in military uniform. She kept his medals enshrined in an old gift box, but mostly she spoke of how handsome he was when they met. How he’d write I love you on the bottom of her shoes each time he left the house. To this day I’m not sure if that was an expression of his love, or jealousy. He was my only living grandfather. We often took rides in his Volga to birch woods drenched in sun. He told me stories of encounters with wolves and of bloody blades as we strolled among trees he had helped plant as a young soldier …
Bio:
Daniela Elza’s latest poetry collections are the broken boat (2020) and slow erosions (a 2020 chapbook written in collaboration with poet Arlene Ang). Her essays have appeared in Riddle Fence, Grain, Motherwell, Queen’s Quarterly, About Place Journal, and subTerrain. She is a writing instructor, poetry editor, writer, and mentor.