by Sandra Anfang
Huddled round the kitchen table
three generations of women
bound by genes and hearts and hands
picking at the bundt cake.
prop each other up—
built on the same frame--painted different hues.
The youngest asks a question of the oldest
as we swipe chocolate morsels
mining for cashews
gems to light the bitter night.
Our stories told—shtetl, camp to Bronx
stealing the border at night
opening an American life
in pink pajamas.
Without the bundt cake
this round table
this sturdy village
would fall apart.
|Sandra Anfang is a poet, teacher, and visual artist. Her poems have appeared in Poetalk, San Francisco Peace and Hope, West Trestle Review, Tower Journal, Clementine, Corvus, Unbroken, and Silver Birch Press. She is a California Poet/Teacher in the Schools and hosts a monthly poetry series in Petaluma, CA.|