A Literary Magazine in Support of the Jewish Community
Stripped Down
On Rosh Hashana it is inscribed
On Yom Kippur it is sealed…
At 84 how those works resonate.
Will I live to pray on another Yom
Kippur? Some by plague, it says
of the deaths coming this year.
A plague never was real to me
before now. Fire devours more
lives. I live in fear of it, while
drought kills frogs and trees.
Death has taken so many.
How can I not expect I may
be among them? I make what
amends I can. An isolated
solemnity weighs upon me all
this day without rabbi or cantor.
I speak sacred words into silence.
A Jew alone is incomplete.
In the Land of the Fearful
The clerk works in a store
that requires masks. A man
strides down the aisle, bare—
faced. What should she do?
If she doesn’t say something
she may be fired. If she tells
him the law, he may shoot her.
Those people boil with rage.
We go about wary, nervous.
An unmasked person's top dog—
we're afraid of them, breaking
rules means they don't give
the tiniest damn about me, you.
Their entitlement is a super
villain's cloak. We get out
of their way—unless we can't.
Monstrous Me
I was sitting on our porch steps
musing on a garden half planted.
A small feisty red squirrel searched
through daffodils, eating sunflower
seeds fallen from the bird feeder.
He frisked closer and closer.
Oh, he saw me, froze and then
rose at least six feet in the air
then bounded away in terror.
Why do I feel so guilty?
We are so often the enemy
who cuts down nest trees,
one who builds houses on
ancient land the animals owned.
Or I Could Ride an Elephant
Circuses would come to Detroit
once or twice a year, Barnum
and Bailey's I remember, set up
in a swath of vacant lots.
I liked the smells, the animals,
sawdust, hotdogs. I liked lions
and tigers best—big cats
like my smaller one.
I loved trapeze acts. I knew
I could never learn that, but
their grace and daring made
me cherish them all.
I never liked clowns. They
didn't make me laugh or care.
Something cruel there, off—
I could smell it.
Elephants parading, prancing
white horses with women dancing
on their backs: I imagined
I could do that.
Two aunts were professional
dancers, so couldn't I perform?
I meant to run off with the circus,
but next day it left
on a train. I was stuck home
where I practiced dancing
in tiny circles, so I'd be ready
whenever the circus came back.
Marge Piercy
Marge Piercy was born and raised in Detroit before going to the University of Michigan and then getting an MA at Northwestern. She has four honorary degrees. Marge Piercy’s 20th poetry book ON THE WAY OUT, TURN OFF THE LIGHT was published last fall from Knopf, who published MADE IN DETROIT before that. Her second selected poems (also from Knopf) is called THE HUNGER MOON. Knopf has published her last 17 poetry collections. She has produced 17 novels, most recently SEX WARS from Harper Collins. PM has republished several earlier novels with new introductions including DANCE THE EAGLE TO SLEEP, VIDA and BRAIDED LIVES. They also put out her first short story collection THE COST OF LUNCH, ETC and a collection of essays and poems MY LIFE, MY BODY. Her memoir is SLEEPING WITH CATS from Harper Perennial.
In addition to winning a National Endowment on the Arts award, she has also served as a judge for them on both poetry and fiction panels. She put together an anthology of women’s poetry EARLY RIPENING and has written four other nonfiction books including PESACH FOR THE REST OF US: Making the Passover Experience Your Own. She joined a group of rabbis to produce the Shabbat morning Reconstructionist siddur OR CHADASH. She has published in hundreds of literary magazines extensively and continues to do so. She has given readings, speeches, and workshops in over 550 venues here and abroad. Her work has been translated into 23 languages. Every June (except when prevented by Covid) she conducts a juried intensive poetry workshop in Wellfleet limited to 12 poets.
