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.