Hope Sleeps In Our Bones

Troubles Cured You Salty As A Country Ham, Smoky To The Taste, Thick-skinned And Tender Inside.

Praise Our Choices, Sister, For Each Doorway Open To Us Was Taken By Squads Of Fighting Women Who Paid Years Of Trouble And Struggle, Who Paid Their Wombs, Their Sleep, Their Lives That We Might Walk Through These Gates Upright. Doorways Are Sacred To Women For We Are The Doorways Of Life And We Must Choose What Comes In And What Goes Out. Freedom Is Our Real Abundance.

With My Poems, I Finally Won Even My Mother. The Longest Wooing Of My Life.

Burning Dinner Is Not Incompetence But War.

Grandmother Hannah Comes To Me At Pesach And When I Am Lighting The Sabbath Candles. The Sweet Wine In The Cup Has Her Breath.... A Little Winter No Spring Can Melt.