The Garlic by Bert Meyers

you who are pale and small and shaped like a fist

The Garlic

by Bert Meyers ¹

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Rabbi of condiments,
whose breath is a verb,
wearing a thin beard
and a white robe;
you who are pale and small
and shaped like a fist,
a synagogue,
bless our bitterness,
transcend the kitchen
to sweeten death—
our wax in the flame
and our seed in the bread.

Now, my parents pray,
my grandfather sits,
my uncles fill
my mouth with ashes.

1. Source: The Poetry Foundation from In a Dybbuk’s Raincoat: Collected Poems (University of New Mexico Press, 2007)

Copyright Credit: Bert Meyers, "The Garlic" from In a Dybbuk’s Raincoat: Collected Poems. Copyright © 2007 by Bert Meyers.