Wednesday, July 14, 2010


by Lyn Lifshin

There is nothing to eat.

We are going to die of hunger.

My teeth ache,

my left leg is frostbitten.

I almost finished the honey.

What have I done?

How selfish I am!

What are they going to say?

What will they

spread on their bread now?

Mother looks terrible–

a shadow of herself.

She works very hard.

Whenever I wake up

at twelve or one in the night

she is bent

over the sewing machine,

and she gets up at six.

I have no heart, no pity,

eat everything

I can lay my hands on.

Today I had an argument

with Father.

I insulted and even cursed him.

And this was because yesterday

I weighed the noodles

but this morning took

a spoonful for myself.

When father came back

he weighed them,

found there was less,

started yelling at me.

He was right, but I was

upset and cursed him.

Father just stood

at the window

and cried like a child.

No stranger ever

abused him like I did.

Everybody was home

I went to bed quickly

I thought I would die of hunger

No comments:

Post a Comment