Three Poems
by Ben Pincus

A Brick Before You

At her labors,
Rochel bas Shutelach,
forced to tread clay
for the bricks of Egypt
dropped a child
from her womb,
sunk into mud.
 
Gavriel appeared,
formed a calf-high
brick of the kid,
set it down
as a footstool
before His throne.
 
Midnight: He killed
the first-born of Egypt,
even the first
of their wretched cattle.
 
All bricks before You,
servants without straw,
You are the Tatte,
we have no other.
 
When my wild
midnight heart
falls out at my feet,
let Gavriel make
a brick of it
to set before You.
 



The Enemy

Cold as the myth they wished on us,

shards of a people, vessels smashed

on a cement altar, remnants of remnants

glittering husks in the sun, we know

all the Christmas carols, practice

Hellenic virtues. No more history—

a convenient string of lies tied

together by bagels and social

conscience. A trampling of spirit,

they herded us, obliging cows. 

Have we become what we hate,

all lovers of wisdom? Save me from

my brother, from Esau. Wave the

palm branch! Smack those Hosannahs!

Aphorisms for Jabo.

 The Old Jew

I am wary of gentiles.

            You see, I have bad teeth

and my mouth is littered

with gold crowns.

The New Jew

I wear a golden crown.

I know what teeth are for.

The Assimilated Jew

caps his teeth.