Are You Jewish

First of a series of love poems for Ann S. (2001-2002)

Are You Jewish?

Am I Jewish? Menorah in hand, you smile, soft fingers caress the brass, circle each empty hole searching for the candles. Other than a few close friends and circumcision, that's the closest I've been to being Jewish.

This menorah balanced in your hand was willed to me after the death of a friend of my father. A Jewish tailor by trade, found sitting in his easy-chair, cigarette ashes piled on the rug burnt out for three days, exactly one year after his wife had died.

The way your face lit up when you asked me "Are you Jewish?" as you touched the menorah again with your finger tips. What did you expect to find? A kindred spirit, a religious experience, the Torah on my bookshelf?

Well my raven-haired friend, when I answered no, your souls candle lost the flame that would keep this menorah burning into the next millennium or flood the Guff with its light and this Goy regrets the day he was born a Christian. WayneRay 13:32, 2 December 2007 (UTC)WayneRay