My Jewish Identity

Their brick and mortar was Confirmation,

Dainty cross necklaces as validation,

An amalgamation of evergreen trees

Up and over the sand dune,

A sharp sandy breeze,

And trying to appease

My mom coming into my ABC’s to make latkes…

My head burrowing in my knees

Shaking, crossing Blanche,

And asking him to dance

In any form of romance,

Percolating in a trance

My shoulders to my ears

Staying up late to chase shadows,

Ephemeral, bone breaking fear.

And activities not to partake,

And praying the San Andreas fault not to break

Organic all-natural thoughts

Racing since the 1920’s,

The Heller’s sprinting over rotting roots

Echoed screams and redwood chambers

Sprayed gases and ashes

And blood glazed leaves.

And may I say today,

We mourn the 8th

Pounds, mounds dissipate

The warm soil turned and toiled

My mom’s Latkes spoiled,

Broken yellow stars,

Sprinkled throughout the dank

Soil, you can rake and rake

But,

Our brick and mortar is,

running from dark nestling

seeds

Roots like Medusa’s weeds

And suede boots

Dug deep into the ground,

And I was 13,

Dawned a frilly purple dress

80 girls and 5 guys

Making eyes at Matt Stein

And only 8 Jewish kids to share my high

And then I knew why

Only cross girls could sleep at night.