You were born in the mellah Made your feet leather on hot rocks made way for boys with donkeys ever the scrambler Your mother didn’t know you much seventh of twelve, always dashing off. While she did someone else’s washing, you and your twin brother switched places on a dare, then back again “Do you think you can fool me?” Your mother shouted You could. You miss it all, down to goat shit and garbage wrapping tefillin for the first time (though your brother got to first) Your house was pink as sunrise, And though it’s been decades you shudder to think of some other family inhabiting its walls. You weren’t like Isaac, son of silk-sellers Or Hassan, son of a judge but you outran them, and your brother four times out of five. Your accent’s shifted. You’ve forgotten some words. They were never your strong suit, But you delight your grandkids-- Saba’s climbing! even though they now outrun you four times out of five.
[…] Things We Carry is a novelette set in the Vale Megacosm. The full version is available here for subscribers…
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