my great grandfather
and his family
and their fathers and mothers before them
walked these streets
had espresso in these cafes
prayed in this church
to San Cono
their patron saint
my grandfather Giuseppe Michele D’Elia
left this village
a municipality of Salerno
at twelve
to venture forth to America
Mulberry Street precisely
in Little Italy, lower Manhattan
then to Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn
eventually to Flatbush
where in his house he would die
many years later
and I his second oldest grandson
carrying his name in the middle of mine
retrace his steps
eat broccoli rabe
pasta with panchetta
drink red wine
watch the world go by
in this city he never returned to
but I’m here, grandpa
I’m here for you, for me
a homecoming
Of sorts