Poetica Magazine

on Sundays Zayde

would walk to shul

to pray and kibbitz,

then to the bakery

for day-old bagels,

salt sticks, and kaiser rolls

were they out of the new ones?

I’d ask and poke the roll on my plate,

crumbs and poppy seeds

dusty on my finger

soft bread, he said, is not healthy

it sits like a stone in your stomach

we ate them with whipped butter,

the kind with no salt

from the red tub

he scraped the butter

so thin

the nap of the roll showed through

On Monday, I played

with Esta and her toys

all the ones I wanted

from the cartoon commercials,

but my mom said no

too much money

we shared rolls from

the Dugan’s truck

and whipped butter

the kind with the salt

from the blue tub

her mom spread it

so thick

balls of pillowy bun

came away on the knife

all week I’d dream of those

salty, buttery puffs

About the Author

Lucille Iscaro’s poetry and essays have appeared in forums including; The New York Times, Read 650, Word Fountain, Poetica Magazine, Eat Darling, Eat, and Passager. She lives in Westchester, New York, with her husband, their dog, and her memories.