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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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THREE MORE TRANSCRIPTS OF ENTRIES FROM THE TAPE RECORDED JOURNALS OF YETTA GOLDSTEIN
ENTRY: March 27, 1971 So, finally he’s here. Nine months, what God, another joke? Okay, she ate the damned apple, so stick it to the snake. But what would you know, another man. For six hours I’m lying there, dying from pain before the shmendrick walks in like some king, smiles at all the cutesy…
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FIRST TRANSCRIPTS FROM THE TAPE RECORDED JOURNALS OF YETTA GOLDSTEIN
ENTRY: July 30, 1970 So, is this fakokteh box doing anything? Hello, HELLO? Buttons, now I’m a button pusher. Some kind of secretary now. Hello? Oh, hell, if it’s on it’s on and if not that’s Saul’s problem. So yesterday I tell my Saul, “You wouldn’t believe, we’re pregnant!” And Saul says, “you mean you’re…
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FINDING PEACE
It wasn’t lost on me, mother, that this yearon the anniversary of death, you had been goneeighteen years, Chai in your beloved Hebrew,a lifetime for me, having never met yousave in the half of my genes you implantedin me when I was implanted in you. As you aged, alone, did you wonder whatbecame of the…
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ARGOT
There is a languagespoken within a familythat no one outside speaks.It may sound familiarbut listen carefullyand learn otherwise.It is so with my brothereven though there arethick walls between usand yet, in a few wordsintentions are obvious.He keeps me farfrom a placeI’d just as soon not goand in her panicmy mother hears onlyour words and nottheir…
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NIGHTLY PRAYERS
My mother always told me to saymy prayers before bed, which was oddgiven that she never prayed, and didn’tas far as we could tell, believe in a deity. I knew, as my Rabbi taught, that you do notseek something for yourself in prayer,and world peace and harmony did notseem on the horizon despite my entreaties.…
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ON LOSSES
By the way, the headstone is lovely,designed by your niece, it pays tributeto you as aunt, as sister, as friend. I do wish it had said mother as wellbut I know I’m the one secret you thoughtwould fit into a corner of the pine box,buried with you, to be, like you, reclaimedby the rocky soil…
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NEATNESS COUNTS
Ice, he said, is clearly an inventionof Satan, the ice cube a scaled downversion of that corner of hell of whichno one ever speaks, so little known. And stop and think, we got by wellfor eons without a cube of ice, unlesswith blade we chipped it froma nearby glacier or left water outin the dead…
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A VISIT
I’ve always imagined that one of these nightsI’d see my mother’s ghost. I would welcome the sightwelcome she that bore me, not she that stepped inin a way,absolving my birth mother of her sin,while assuming adopting me would make her complete. She hasn’t visited yet, neither has done so,but I hold out hope, it is…
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TREPIDATION
I approach it slowly, overcomeby fear and desire, warned to stepcarefully over the uneven earththat on this hillside haven set behindthe rusting wrought iron fence , itsmaster lock dangling askew, peersout through the trees to the Kanawha riverflowing unknowingly through the valley. The stone is set in line with the others,neatly incised, a name, Englishand…
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an old writer and his words 