Chinese Cookies

Chinese Cookies


New York Chinese cookies:
studies in flour and chocolate heaven,
not those thin almond things.

Last Friday
I took the Riverline
to New Jersey Transit.

As I ordered Chinese cookies
and black-and-whites
at Zaro's in Newark Station,
my grandmother's
voice and hands
took the boxes
and carried them with us
all the way back.

She took the 2 train.

I took New Jersey Transit.

She bought them
at the big bakery
a block away.

I traveled ninety miles.

Together we escorted
the boxes back
and forward in time
and made sure
that no cookies broke.

The Bronx Upon a Time

The Bronx Upon a Time

Six story buildings
with gently
weathered brick
preside
over
the cracks
which give kids a way to
learn the math
of sidewalks.
Women stand
and chat.
Their baby
carriages
snare passersby
who smile.
Cooking smells beckon.

No one is ashamed
to be seen.

Choosing Up For Dreams

Choosing Up for Dreams

Imagine ten kids
who, instead of choosing
for softball or hoops,
put their fingers out
for dreams

one gets boat
owner and swimming
coach
with small town
bungalow

another gets stockbroker
with wrap around window
condo

another gets electronic
engineer with house
in quiet boring suburb

yet another gets prison
for thirty years
after killing her abuser

and you wish that they
could choose again
just to see if they'd get
something better

but by then the fingers
are clenched in again
and the world sails along
until someone wishes it flat

and dreams squish
pancake style
along with doubts
and possibles

and someone
we can't imagine yet
crows in flat language
"I told you so."

Charms

Charms To the memory of my grandma, Helen Glaser (1900-1988) Little sweet squares in bright colors resembling flavors before Lifesavers You bought them in Olinsky's around the corner when you bought chocolate kisses obviously for us, the kids, but my mom and dad liked both The floors still had hay stalks on them and an appetizing counter You took a number and waited Neighbors talked and shrank the world to four streets They made politics with their hands I grew happy

Crack In Time

Crack In Time Looking up to people: not all it's cracked up to be So much better to revere trees or sky or birds At least they don't throw unexpected temper tantrums or a third finger Ever seen a tree make fun of denim skirts? Ever seen sky unfriend? Crack crack Human shell may break into small flecks like Humpty But it's how birds get born Looking down Looking across Easy as saints Until they crack up Crackdown is just as bad

The Fires of Autumn

The Fires of Autumn (To the Memory of My Mother - Millicent Kant (1928-2014) When autumn came to the Parkway, it was as if the trees decided to play with the warmest colors they could find and sent them to unsettle everyone who lived there into dancing on the most unsettling air it could supply. In my Rosh Hashanah dreams you sang, matching your high notes to your scarf as if they became colors that already knew northern autumn. We were supposed to be sober and think. But when you sang I could feel nothing but love that pretended to be sad but lilted in tones tinged the deepest of burning orange. Day shortened, but burned and trembled all the higher, like God vanishing in the holiest of flames, if one decided to believe.

The Last Bright Days of Elul

The Last Bright Days of Elul Rosh Hashanah comes early this year. I.L. Peretz wrote of the "last bright days of Elul," the month before new year's time. Hot, with nineties just last week, sliding to the eighties. Our climate lags behind the Russian, brings a later autumn. This year, one year since you left, the month can't decide whether to preserve summer or start on fall. You left us between the seasons. Some part of me stays in that between when you were going, wanting you to sleep, to stay between the worlds. For me you are here still in the early New Year, sleeping in the summer-fall, new season to bring the year when it's too early and the leaves stay green or drop yellow from no rain. Do you keep the New Year from starting before the leaves turn? I keep you and memory from falling.