There’s an Abraham in Me
after Ross Gay
There’s an Abraham in me
whose split wood
is so flammable
it ignites with a glance,
whose saddled donkey
is so obedient he would sit
without thought of thirst
for days. He wields an ax,
the Abraham in me,
and cuts things apart.
He is famous, this Abraham is,
for his rigorous economy,
for his mellifluous tongue.* *some would stop reading here
Fondly he speaks
of the Isaac in me, the one
he loves enough
to kill to protect
his reputation, the one
always willing
to take a hand, to go
together, wide-eyed
yet unsuspecting
of the cleaver,
the kindling. O inner
Isaac – why don’t you notice
my gleaming butcher knife?
Isaac in me, why are you
willing to make of my body
an apple-dappled tree?
Are you willing to lie
on the altar to better see
the cloud-laced sky?
Or maybe you’re unwilling,
and hoping for word
from the Sarah in me.* *some would stop reading here
Though she’s really not
worth mentioning.
She stays at home
lifting one leg
then another
out of bed
taking one breath
then another
at a time, slicing
into her years
as if into a pie
which she warms
and sets on a hand-painted
pottery plate dotted with sheep
and dew-soaked hills.
She sits, this Sarah
in me, with her steaming
tea, gazing out
the window
at the Hagar in me
(whom I banished
long ago) piercing
the dough with her fork tines.
What is she waiting for? * *some would stop reading here
And the angel?
Is there an angel
in me? And where
would she direct me?
And would I listen?
Maya Bernstein’s writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Adanna Literary Journal, Allium, By the Seawall, the Cider Press Review, the Eunoia Review, Lilith Magazine, Poetica Magazine, Rue Scribe, Tablet Magazine, and elsewhere. She is on faculty at Georgetown University’s Institute for Transformational Leadership and Yeshivat Maharat, and is pursuing an MFA in poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. Her first collection is There Is No Place Without You (Ben Yehuda Press, 2022). She serves on the board of Yetzirah: A Hearth for Jewish Poetry.
Amethyst Review 