Archive - Staff Blog
November 18th, 2016
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you I wear
a star under my shirt.
Having heard two swastikas
were seen magic-marked
on our Havaruh’s door.
Here, in a country town, more
of a house than a city’s
synagogue. Maybe I shouldn’t
say how much or how little
I pray. How disturbing it is
to remember the numbers I saw
inked on a man’s wrist,
when I was a boy.
What, a few weeks ago,
I felt in Birkenau, fields
Across the Aisle
My aisle’s a walk across the road I have
to walk. My neighbor’s stripping his bumper-
peeling decal off. We’ve had little to say
to each other these past twelve months.
Guessing where each other stands,
by the flags we wave. By now we’ve had
enough of this, our barely talking.
“It just doesn’t feel like Halloween this year,” my daughter said on the morning of October 31.
Winning in Their City
after Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art”
Tonight there’s no art
to losing in extra innings.
We’re not used to winning.
Not having to console ourselves,
heart-heavy. In the park,
in their city, we’re all about
coming back from losing.
Celebrating the art of one-
run winning. Raising the flag
at the start of Spring’s next season.
Our family consumes a lot of food.
We are, after all, a family of six. But you might be thinking: Come on, how much food could four little girls possibly put away?
You’d be surprised. I’m surprised, because whatever it is they’re eating, I can assure you that it’s not dinner.
It’s likely the deer and wild turkeys will be
the first churches you see when you arrive
home. And next, the leaves ringing Autumn’s
bells. Don’t expect to see a busload of Japanese
tourists pouring into your back yard, their selfie
sticks, batons really, directing the orchestra
of geese, tuning their throats, arranging their ties
More stories published this issue