The Laws of Primogeniture

A conversation I had the other day reminded me of this poem by Linda Pastan. I don't have a deep knowledge of modern poets and poetry, but I really love her work. I think because she came to Baylor my senior year for our annual poetry festival and I attended her poetry reading. No one can bring life to a poem like the one who wrote it. So I hear her voice in my head when I read this poem, which makes it more meaningful . . .

The Laws of Primogeniture

My grandson has my father's mouth
with its salty sayings
and my grandfather's crooked ear
that heard the soldiers coming.

He has the pale eyes of the Cossack
who saw my great-great-grandmother
in the woods, then wouldn't stop
looking.

And see him now, pushing
his bright red fire truck towards
a future he thinks he's inventing
all by himself.