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LIAR
It is a strange feeling to discover that youhave been made a liar by your own DNA. For years I was Jewish to the core, halfat least Sephardic, Portuguese, and thatnot merely extracted but fully blooded. My diet at Passover expanded greatly,no longer dictated by Northerners whoeasily banned that which they did not grow. But…
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TRIPTYCH
A triptych hangs in the gallery of memory. Admission is by invitation only. The first panel is a time fogged mirror into which I stare. The adopted image hides behind the tarnished silver. My adopted mother’s voice is heard from a hidden speaker: “You were named after my father.” I want to tape his picture…
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JUST ONE MORE HAND
My parents, well my father,always felt is was necessaryto stop on the way to our summer homein the Western Adirondacksto visit Uncle Morris, who mayor may not have been an unclein the blood sense, it was never clear.It was he who sold my father the cottagenear the small lake, he who nowlived in a nursing…
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PARENTAL MOMENTS
My adoptive parents diedsix years apart, I receivedtwo announcement textsfrom the son they had together. We negotiated her obituary,and I am waiting for her funeral,but after seven years, I havegiven up hope of that happening. I did visit my birth mother’sgrave, placed a small stone on hers, watered the groundwith tears of sadness and joy at…
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BEFORE YOU LEAP
She always told himthat he should, no must,“look before you leap.” He said he understoodand would do so, almostalways, he was after alla child and no promisecould be that absolute. When he came outof the anesthesia,his arm and legin a cast, he saw herscowling at him. “I did,” he said, “I did,I looked for quite…
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TOO MANY COOKS
I can still recallthe day my motherwas ecstatic on learningthat everything grewout of a primordial soup.It was proof, shewas certain, of a JewishGod, even if he didn’tdo it all with his own hands.And, with a broad smileshe said, I’m fairly certainat the soupwas chicken, maybewith kreplach on the side.
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AN ORPHAN
I knew you’d show up in my dream,it was a matter of time and faith,or perhaps just playing the averages,sooner or later became sooner, that’s all. You had nothing to say, but that, toowas to be expected, for I have neverheard your voice, and imagine it akinto the voice of the GPS or perhaps Siri.…
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WAITING, STILL
I stood on the cornerwaiting patiently for you. It seemed like hours. It was probably minutesbut Einstein was rightabout relativity also. You never arrived,but I hadn’t expectedyou to do so, that wasthe nature of us. I will wait againin two weeks. Same corner as usual,but an hour earlier. You will not show upand will offer…
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an old writer and his words 