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Passover '38
One thing I remember
even more than the hunger.
Scrubbing my knees, smarting my hair and
rushing downstairs
into that playground of my childhood;
where all the other children
with their eyes alight
were building castles with crackernuts.
I built my castle.
I was a shopkeeper, a millionaire,
I ruled the world;
challenging all to chance
nuts of their own,
gathered from high pitched aunts
the day before,
as we went from home to home,
running that Yomtov gauntlet
of twisted cheeks and wet kisses.
In those days
families extended forever and ever
Who wants a castle?
Knock down my castle! I dared.
All in their sudden beauty
the girls came singing, flirting.
Holiday! Passover!
The Angel of Death? Who is he?
a madman on the radio, far away.
Passover lasted for the rest of the year;
the crackernuts secure
in the lining of my sleeve.
Belonging--we belonged.
Poverty came later,
when most of us did well
and moved away.
2000
