They Drank Tea in Glass Cups

the roots go deep, back beyond
my mother's foot pedal sewing
machine, beyond the crochet squares
my grandmother made into tablecloths,
back to a tailor in Poland who sewed
pieces of cloth into suits, back
to where the skein of thread rolls
out and the beginning is lost
somewhere in a shtetl in Poland--
my grandmother began another
skein when she saved string
in the bag with her crocheted squares