Rachel Barenblat

In oil, pale circles roll and flip,
doughy moons inflating.

The fun part: poking a finger
inside, giving a wiggle and twist,
pushing a dollop of jam
knuckle-deep, then two, 'til
the cavity gleams raspberry.

Latkes are pedestrian.
These puff like a breath held.

There, and here,
a million women finger
these cupped curves,
probe the soft center,
push the sticky treat inside.

We glance at each other, faces hot.
We lick the sweet from our hands.

Email us your comments & poems

More poetry:

Money-Back Guarantee Samantha Stiers
November, 2004

Hiding your Sins Hal Sirowitz
September, 2004

Ghosts Shaun Hanson
August, 2004

Playing Eve Hila Ratzabi
June, 2004

Then Avi Levy
April, 2004

Faith David Goldstein
April, 2004

God Had a Controlling Interest Hal Sirowitz
March, 2004

Two Rituals Joshua Bolton
January, 2004

re:vision Raphael Cohen
November, 2003

Angel-Man Abraham Mezrich
September, 2003

Not Mentioned Hal Sirowitz
July, 2003

The Reason for Jellyfish Hal Sirowitz
March, 2003

December 2004

Straight Eye for the Consumer Guy
Dan Friedman

I'll Say Goodbye and Let you Go
Abigail Pickus

Three Jewish Books on Sadness
Jay Michaelson

Rachel Barenblat

The Other Jews: Secularism, Kabbalah and Radical Poetics
Hila Ratzabi

A Jewish Masterpiece
David Zellnik

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From previous issues:

A Song of Ascents
Sarah Lefton

Sex and the Golem
Joshua Axelrad

Shtupping in the Shadow of the Bomb
Marissa Pareles