By Anna Ziegler
Instead of observing Passover this year,
I have a fight with my boyfriend
outside of Krispy Kreme by the F train.
We can't decide whether or not
to move forward. The night's cool and
I imagine everyone around me
has a beautiful family
and books on long shelves, candles.
Fast forward twenty years
and I sit at the head of the table
reading from the Haggadah,
There is nothing in my that
remembers wanting this; it feels
as thought it's what I've always had.
And yet there was a journey -
desert and forty years
and starvation, the feeling of
being very far away
and not believing in home.
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