Urban Lullaby

by Avigayil Rosensweig


On a seven train one evening, winding its way home
Past brick-laid rooftops, its rattling an unsteady urban lullaby
I caught a glimpse through your bedroom window
And saw you, a mound beneath a floral bedspread
A splash of lamplight, dark hair on a pillow
You, like most of the city, asleep


Unaware, or aware, that every passenger saw you sleep
Hurtling past on slender rails above your home
Beheld you, unprotected, your cheek against the pillow
Perhaps you hummed yourself a lullaby
Lonely, as you folded back the bedspread
Threw open your curtains to let the city in through your window


Rain beaded on the train car window
You looked like a child, unguarded while asleep
How they fling themselves across the bedspread
Unafraid, because they are home
Soothed into slumber by a parent’s lullaby
Small heads barely denting the pillow


By midnight lying horizontal to the pillow
Dappled by light coming in through the window
Serene, dreams unfold the lyrics of a lullaby
Less lively, but infinitely guileless, while asleep
However neatly tucked, bedtime at home
Always ending up a tangle across the bedspread


Hair fluttering over the edge, wispy against the bedspread
Crown to toe, height only the length of a pillow
Slipping through dreams, until they awaken and come home
Shivering as air breezes through the window
“Tremble, tremble, and do not sin”—a song before they fall asleep
A laugh of surprise; what a terribly Brisker lullaby


To the sleepwalking child, befuddled, a calm voice is a lullaby
Carried back to a sleep-mussed bedspread
Small limbs weighted with sleep
Eyelashes against her cheeks as soon as she hits the pillow
Each gossamer strand glowing as the nightlight reflects in the window
She breaths easy, in the blankets of her own bed, at home


Sooth their dreams with a lullaby, watch their breath ease against the pillow
Smooth down the bedspread, draw the blinds across the window
Coax them into sleep, bundled deep within their homes

Edel - White

by Gabriella Englander


Sunlight filters in through dusty blinds,
Dances on a China-blue vase, brimming with edelweiss,
Overshadowing my Bill of Rights homework, abandoned
On the dark-veined table.

My grandmother shuffles in, her gaze
Traces cotton-coated petals. Her eyes,
Envelop me, same gray-blue as mine,
And I fold in -

To a Carpathian valley of sweet gale and rolling pine,
Whistling to the barred warbler’s tale, gray-blue eyes
Of a man, plucking clusters of edelweiss
For his wife to fluff in a China-blue vase -

Beside my homework, on the dark-veined table,
My grandmother rests a yahrzeit candle
For those who had no Bill of Rights,
Her lips pressed white, edel-white.

Holy War

                   by Yael Mayer

Their hands on hearts and heads are bowed in prayer
Then swords unsheath and raise in forward march
“We fight to bring God’s light into their dark!”
The battle cry, with confidence, declared.
This is the story of the Great Crusades
Of al-Gazawat and of Medina’s Siege
Of 80 years of war without reprieve
Of Cromwell and relentless Irish raids.
The Catholics had a holy mission- Truth.
The Heugenots must see their errant ways-
They sacrificed at St. Bartholomew
And from those dying lips they drew His Praise.
“I do God’s work!” you cry, with eyes ablaze-
Who says the Lord’s at all conscious of you?