ever since i fucked a girl in rabbinical
school the jewishness i once knew
poured out of me like the ten plagues
on seder plates. i don’t attend synagogue
anymore. now i can only cry at night but
i can weep in the mornings. i write poetry
because i learned god spoke to us in verse.
i take off my shoes when crossing
the street as any land, no matter how
filthy, can be consecrated ground. instead
of pus the blisters on my feet are full of
salt water from the passover table. they
trickle down to the apex of battery park.
i believe that moses splitting the red sea
felt not unlike watching manhattan
unknowingly separate the east river from
the hudson. it is strange indeed to be reminded
of bereshit every i write my name. this year i
ignored the holiest of our days. on yom kippur
my aunt texted me to forgive her for what she
had done wrong throughout the year. that’s
the strange thing about being a jew. even if
you haven’t talked to someone for months,
you’re supposed to innately know their sins.
TOVA G. (they/them) is a non-binary, queer, jewish poet who specializes in the intersection between twentieth century poetics, dramatic literature, & ancient greek & roman antiquity at sarah lawrence college in yonkers, new york. they work often with the poetry society of new york. their work has been featured in the eunoia review, midway journal, love and squalor, clickbait, and primavera zine. they currently live in fidi in manhattan with their partner and cat. they work in midtown at the museum of sex.