She didn't understand the long sleeves
long face and even longer silences.
She sipped her cocoa in a porcelain cup,
ate just out of the oven, out of this world,
rugelach and listened to the Hit Parade.
Her aunt was a dark swan in the kitchen,
sadly rustling feathers as she reached
for Lipton teabags in the white cupboard
with green enamel trim. Her niece noticed
a bit of blue lace etched into her aunt's arm
as her sleeve fell back with the reaching.
It didn't seem polite to ask. Ten years-
her aunt lay dying-nightgown, a white sail
billowing out over lonely sea bed, ruffling
at the wrists. They spoke of kitchen days
then, when simple tasks kept terror locked
in battered trunks in the basement,
when the old country was never mentioned
except in recipes for stoellen.
She held her aunt's worn hand in hers,
stroking bony fingers, alabaster skin.
What had looked like lace
to a younger girl, was really a faded serial
number tattoed on her aunt's forearm
like the marks on a side of beef.
My Jewish numbers, her aunt said,
inscribed on my soul, so I won't forget.
2nd Place
"Fluchtlingskinder, 1939" by Roger Craik
3rd Place
"Harry Moskowitz, Peddler of Fruits and Vegetables" by Joel Moskowitz
Honorable Mention
"The Elevator of Violence" by Mark Taksa
"False Heat" by Janet R. Kirchheimer
"Remembering" by Helen Bar-Lev (Israel)
"Knipple" by Helen Padway
"January" by Judith R. Robinson
First Place
Abram Hears the Voice of God
"...the word of the Lord came unto Abram in a vision, saying,
Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward."
Genesis 15:1
by Carol Tufts
The slow wandering in the plain
cadence of the plains, the going
up in spring to the greening
hills, alone there with his herds,
he might have come to conceive
something, as if the gorgeous
chrysalis of the sky could crack
and a voice call to him
through the crooning night,
above the purling dreams
of his sleeping animals.
So that when the syllables
of his name summoned,
stunning as consummation,
he did not know if it was
the echo of his own longing
he heard, or something
showing itself at last,
telling him his life
was measured beyond its ending,
beyond the radiant oases
of stars, spacious
as the moment's close
of simple wholeness.
Second Place
Helen Papell
Third Place
Madeline Tiger
Honorable Mention
Eric Diamond
Haya Pomerenz
Carol Tufts
Erika Michael
Madeline Tiger
First Place
Young Zayde in Brooklyn: First Sunday
by Art Schwartz
Suddenly awake, he listens prudently
to noise outside, and makes a judgment:
all this clamor is, for now, demanding nothing.
It's early; he stays still, listening to hooves
that clatter, voices, trains that shake the bed,
and still there is no need for a response, and
Calmed he calculates the distance he has traveled,
counts the borders, sees the great ship Rotterdam,
compares two names, the first no longer his,
And hears his wife, the Bobbe's urgent voice, and
sees them leaving, sees his little daughter's face
when they are stopped for questioning at Vilna,
Thinks of the lantzman who was first to tell
about this place, imagines famous Washington,
whose high ambition was for streets like this,
Then, cautiously considering new strategies
against the noise that is no more than waves
that lull and gently rock, and lying back,
He mulls the chance of sleeping late amazed,
and answers "yes" aloud, and closes tired eyes with
gratitude for Washington who wishes this neighborhood.
Second Place
Joel Moskowitz
Third Place
Ed Galing
Honorable Mention
Ricky Friesem (Israel)
Ruth Holtzer
Helen Latner
Maureen Sherbondy
Carol Tufts
