Spoiled Milk
My son reminds me that I once
poured him a glass of turned milk.
He likes to bring it up when I try to give him advice,
“like the milk?” he’ll say.
He is now nineteen and this happened a long time ago –
only one time! I protest.
I adopted him when he was two. Brought him
to this place where now
they are rounding up and deporting brown people.
This place, where he must carry his passport,
where I beg him to please stay out of trouble.
I have brought him to this rotten place.
*
Jewish Not Jewish
My son tells me he’s not Jewish.
His blood is not Jewish,
his skin is brown –
not Jewish brown.
I dipped him in a mikvah –
a beit din of Rabbis made it so.
He was called to the Torah.
We had a nice lunch,
with food and some hora
I try to convince him, he’s part
of the people. But this people,
has disappointed him
over and over. Othered him.
How selfish that I want him
to be part of this bundle
of argumentative contradictions.
This torn up confused beleaguered people.
Doesn’t he have enough to deal with?
*
Lisa Badner is the author of the poetry collection, FRUIT CAKE (Unsolicited Press, 2022). Lisa’s writing has appeared in a bunch of publications: biggish ones and smallish ones and most recently in Second Coming Poem-a-Day Series and Unbroken#48. Lisa has received two Pushcart Special Mentions. Lisa lives in Brooklyn, NY. See lisabadner.com for more.
Great poems!
What a complicated time. Thank you for the poems.
Appreciate your poems. What a motherly conundrum, and another for your son. Jewish friends adopted 2 brown kids from Colombia and raised them Jewish. The daughter could pass for anyone anywhere. The darker son was persecuted at university in the U.S. for being Hispanic and did not feel comfortable anywhere until he spent time in Israel where he fit in perfectly. There’s one answer!