Bris Pantoum


Have you been to many of these, 
whispers the Catholic grandmother.
Please make him stop crying, please.
All of man is holy before the Creator.

Whisper to the Catholic grandmother,
I always arrive late to avoid the circumcision.
All of man is holy before the Creator.
Admit it like a lapsed Jewess at her first Confession,

I always arrive late to avoid the circumcision.
Our grandson’s triumph: a golden arc of pee.
Admit it like a lapsed Jewess at her first Confession,
my borscht blood runs beet-red as any Ashkenazi.

Our grandson’s triumph: a golden arc of pee.
The grey-suited Mohel winces, wipes, waits, then snips.
My borsht blood runs beet-red as any Ashkenazi.
Dip the gauze into the kiddush cup for more Manichewitz.

The grey-suited Mohel winces, wipes, waits, then snips.
A blitz of tears shakes each generation in the room.
Dip the gauze into the kiddush cup for more Manichewitz.
Our littlest survivor is given his Hebrew name.

A blitz of tears shakes each generation in the room.
Sugar him well with sweet kosher wine on his eighth day.
Our littlest survivor is given his Hebrew name.
Kiss him again and pass the challah for joy.

Sugar him well with sweet kosher wine on his eighth day.
You should write a poem about this.
Kiss him again and pass the challah for joy.
Bris rhymes with piss and kiss.

You should write a poem about this— 
have you been to many of these?
Bris rhymes with piss and kiss.
Please make him stop crying, please.