The
Dance
by Elizabeth
Zelvin
God, let this be a good day. The sun is shining. I will help bring in
the harvest. Friends and strangers join us, first to work and then to dance and sing. Tonight
we will celebrate the harvest. The sun and the harvest, work and friends and music ought
to be enough. Is it wrong to long for more? Is it too much to want someone to love?
God, let this day be special. Let tonight be different from all other nights. Is it too
much to ask?
Now it is night. The sky is black. The stars
are out. I am dancing with a man I have just met. I like the sparkle in his eyes and the
grip of his hand as we circle in the dance. His hand is big and rough, the hand of someone
who is not afraid of work. His clasp is firm and gentle, as if my smaller hand is precious,
like a child's. I feel warm and safe. The floor is packed. Others all around us have given
themselves to the dance, the joyful music. We laugh, for no particular reason.
He says, "Your dress is pretty."
The
dress is new. I bought it for the dance. I like his smile.
Maybe
he will be the one.
Shots ring out. The man I danced with vanishes.
I hear screaming all around me. I cannot speak or move. I have blood spatters on my dress.
Blood spatters on my dress.
Around me all is dark. I am dying. I am
dying.
How can I go to meet my God with
blood spatters on my dress?
THE DIFFERENCE
Elizabeth
Zelvin
the difference between a hookup nowadays
and what we called a one-night stand
is
that the girls we were back then
were
always looking for love
yes, every single time we hoped
that moment of connection had to lead
to more, we wanted more, we wanted
love
we didn’t care which boy
bestowed it
never noticed he had none to give
the boy I’d flirted with for weeks at the office
finally snagged at a weekend party
on the rooftop under the stars
said Get out the moment it was over
ignored me at the copier on Monday
the
boy in the cornfield on the camping trip
after
mixing grain and grape and hop
a mistake I never made again
we worked together for the next two years
he would never meet my eyes
never spoke to me in all that time
the boy who said Everything
human is natural to me
the Roman poet Terence, more correctly
Nothing human is alien to me
more
comfortable quoting the classics
to justify himself than asking
my permission
yet another way to ignore No
my granddaughters are young women
now
joyous, beautiful, full of life
rich
in women friends
so far treat the boys they know
as buddies
both their parents were late bloomers
please, God, let my girls skip the hookup phase
fly, when they’re ready, straight to love
GOLIATH
Elizabeth
Zelvin
like a sneering hunched rhinoceros
tossing giant boulders
on his horn
he
blunders toward whatever stands against him
blind
animal that he is, he stomps
the
ground until it shudders
step
by step his lumbering feet crash down
on
crowds of people, cities, forests
what
will he trample next?
institutions,
nations, the tectonic plates
that
hold the earth together
will anyone dare
to stop him?
one
reckless disenchanted politician?
one
general with the courage to say no?
one
young person with clear eyes and flowing hair
a
slingshot and a single stone?
LILITH
GOES TRANS
Elizabeth
Zelvin
I
don't want to be a woman any more
I've
had enough of dancing backward
on
heels sharp enough to pierce parquet
as
Adam, tuxed and Old Spiced for the ball
grips
my butt with jealous fingers
eyes
fixed on my décolletage
and
mansplains the night away
Adam's groupies will
be glad I'm gone
so
will the ladies who lunch
competitive
yeshiva bochers
demonize me anyway
the feminists will lose an archetype
the original Vilde
Chaya
Eve says she'll miss
the way we laughed
the girl talk in the Ladies
how we borrowed one
another's clothes
and
did each other's hair
she's
afraid that I'll transition into One of Them
she says We
won't be sisters any more
ULTIMATE PEACE
Elizabeth
Zelvin
my granddaughter
at seventeen
one
of a bunch of Jersey girls and boys
selected
for potential
spends
the summer on a rich kids' campus
all
hallowed halls and tennis courts
learning
how to think
she writes a research
paper
on
the other summer program on the site
children
making friends, as she is
playing
Ultimate Frisbee
the
only team sport without outside referees
on
each disputed play or call
the
players must resolve the conflict
exchange
opinions, listen, reach consensus
in
thirty seconds—so say the Rules
the
Spirit of the Game defines the game
what's special about
these kids
throwing
a frisbee around, eyes bright
flushed
and laughing as they run and leap
swipe
the disc out of midair and send it spinning?
they're
Israeli and Palestinian kids
segregated
from each other all their lives till now
coming
together, my granddaughter writes
before their innocence and open-mindedness is tainted
she describes these children swaying, singing
John Lennon's Imagine, arms interlocked
uses it as a metaphor for a developing mindset
a refusal to allow political groups, public sentiment
and the media
to corrupt their perceptions of one another
then she refutes
charges that this beautiful moment
is naive, the song
sentimental
pushing an artificial narrative of peace and love
she says, progress cannot be achieved without
imagination
How can you expect a Palestinian child in Gaza
to forget the screams? my granddaughter asks
How can you expect an Israeli child
at the Nova Music
Festival to forget the screams?
You cannot expect them to.
At
seventeen, was I so clear-eyed? So concerned
my
responses to the world might be
considered
naive and simplistic
so
articulate about why they were not?
Children's sports
programs like Ultimate Peace
offer a long-term process of healing and understanding
that replaces
lessons of being taught how to hate
she says. Not acting at all is much worse. As the cycle
of resentment and hostility continues
younger generations
need to be better equipped
to overcome the fear and prejudice they
inherit.
every
grandmother is a fairy godmother
bestowing
three wishes at birth
only three? okay, so we cheat
mine for this beloved girl are true at
seventeen
health,
happiness, and a social conscience
a happy childhood, a moral compass, and a capacity for joy
a voice
of her own, an imagination, and the ability to think
