Poetry

I am an honorary Jew, for I believe in Jesus says the white woman who does not weep for ancestors or descendants My grandfather was a Jew He didn’t believe in Jesus

My daughter’s dance class: A brave octet of blue-clad torsos, all Delicate and strung tight with snare drum ribs. They gallop like crabs Gone dizzy with light. A lone piano chord sends

Would you let me tell you about the dream you had last night? You were in a long hallway, swimming upstream, slight, Pale women moving past, not meeting your eyes but Muttering, blurry

My feet, at the ends of my legs, do their job. My face competently presents itself to others. My hands do their job of grasping fruit from my neighbor’s grove while my

In teaching babies, one points to objects: “Lamb.” “Food.” “Lamp.” “Spoon.” One guides baby’s hand. Still splotches of oatmeal smear onto chin, drips of small drops. The lamb sits with stitched lips.