the cliff turned into sky
and the clouds to dreams
whose silken threads touched me
and i
f
e
l
l
the cliff turned into sky
and the clouds to dreams
whose silken threads touched me
and i
f
e
l
l
i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,
lined paper covered in neat cursive
signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of
and not much else. their voices were warm and the house
and there is room at our table, oh so much room we are simply
bursting with food, we are overflowing,
uniformity is not a problem in our sukkah. we can
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