you never get the formating on these things
How to be Jewish in a Poem
after Thomas Sayers Ellis
My grandmother’s chickensoup has
to be in the fridge, boxes of salt and
matzo ball mix in the pantry, and flowers
whose petals fall as the table shakes
with typing; their decay marks the time passed
since last Shabbat, a word which spell
checks capitalize. Words must be held up
on chairs while we joyously dance a hora
around them, mothers hanging over-head
like elaborate glass chandeliers whose crystals
drop, turn to gefilte fish on your head,
and yet looking up there’s never an empty link.
These crystals are her activated
bat-mitzvah jewels, proving their utility.
No girl may ever know what jewelry-
equivalent boys have received,
but we only assume they are more useless.
To prove this we have the dorky awkward
boys in the yarmulkes, and books and books and
books and
the singsong voices
that are used
when arguing,
when reading,
when singing, these old old old
letters: each letter has little crowns on it,
and even
each crown
has his stories,
can assert his individuality.
And oy the guilt the guilt the guilt, and ohhh,
there must be America, our land,
we don’t just rest ourselves, po-lin, no no
No, we have the jewels!
They are the paradox,
which you really need: so
the links must be made of boats,
and new names and the tiny apartment
in the part of town from which now
our mothers drop
god, lock the car doors…
You have to try harmony from these differentest things
because most of us forgot, oh Jerusalem,
it makes about as much sense as cheeseburgers or lobster.
shmutz. farblunged. grubbenas. bris.
meshugah. gevalt. gezundheit. kreplach.
huck me nishkt a chinik. keppe. af tzeloches.
a gazint aff dain poopik. a shaiyne punem.
nomacht mein kugel bata'mt moichel.
zamir menashek. nishtoh favos. hentie.
Gelt gai tz'gelt en drech tz'drech, rachmanah letzlan.
… Schmuck, which is in the spell check.
after Thomas Sayers Ellis
My grandmother’s chickensoup has
to be in the fridge, boxes of salt and
matzo ball mix in the pantry, and flowers
whose petals fall as the table shakes
with typing; their decay marks the time passed
since last Shabbat, a word which spell
checks capitalize. Words must be held up
on chairs while we joyously dance a hora
around them, mothers hanging over-head
like elaborate glass chandeliers whose crystals
drop, turn to gefilte fish on your head,
and yet looking up there’s never an empty link.
These crystals are her activated
bat-mitzvah jewels, proving their utility.
No girl may ever know what jewelry-
equivalent boys have received,
but we only assume they are more useless.
To prove this we have the dorky awkward
boys in the yarmulkes, and books and books and
books and
the singsong voices
that are used
when arguing,
when reading,
when singing, these old old old
letters: each letter has little crowns on it,
and even
each crown
has his stories,
can assert his individuality.
And oy the guilt the guilt the guilt, and ohhh,
there must be America, our land,
we don’t just rest ourselves, po-lin, no no
No, we have the jewels!
They are the paradox,
which you really need: so
the links must be made of boats,
and new names and the tiny apartment
in the part of town from which now
our mothers drop
god, lock the car doors…
You have to try harmony from these differentest things
because most of us forgot, oh Jerusalem,
it makes about as much sense as cheeseburgers or lobster.
shmutz. farblunged. grubbenas. bris.
meshugah. gevalt. gezundheit. kreplach.
huck me nishkt a chinik. keppe. af tzeloches.
a gazint aff dain poopik. a shaiyne punem.
nomacht mein kugel bata'mt moichel.
zamir menashek. nishtoh favos. hentie.
Gelt gai tz'gelt en drech tz'drech, rachmanah letzlan.
… Schmuck, which is in the spell check.