Thou shalt neither vex a stranger, nor oppress him:
for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt
photo by Carmine Savarese for unsplash
Early-sixties Flatbush Avenue Brooklyn
A red brick apartment building fourth story
overlooked a yeshiva an asphalt playground
where boys played hoops in their tallit & yarmulke
and my Grandma Sarah in HER kitchen
white enamel stove aluminum stock pot
the blue flame that eternal light simmering
left-overs from last night and the night before
and before that and so on That soup That soup?
Geshmak And Grandma is happy Ales iz gut
The Cossacks? Gone The Pogroms? Gone
Strangers none Surrounded by her own
But no No Not for long For now they come
Come pouring in storming in Puerto Ricans?
The Puerto Ricans! Oy-yoy-yoy Momzers and gonifs!
Everywhere! Speaking Spanish! Making noise!
Making problems! The neighbors? Her friends?
Oy vey iz mir Miami bound they are gone…
And Grandma Sarah? Grandma bakes cookies
Chocolate chip cookies fat raisins walnuts galore
I tell you more sugar more butter than flour
(The best? Always a bit burnt on the bottoms)
They cool on battered baking pans atop her stove
and that aroma! Zis Sshmekn such sweetness
Grandma pushes open her heavy green door
Opens it wide No need to shout for anyone
in any language Here come the boys and girls
black hair brown eyes tan skin storming in
Everywhere! Speaking Spanish! Making noise!
Surrounded by her own She kvells Ales iz gut
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