HQ Publications

Wise Wednesday

Wise Wednesday

A Poem

Phil’s Delicatessen

The aroma of pickles,

smoked fish, coffee, fresh bread

and salami filled me with

peace and anticipation.

I reached up

held my father’s hand

inhaled.

I was where I belonged.

We went to Phil’s

on South Street

every Sunday morning

for lox and bagles

Then to Danziger’s

for bobbca and sweet roles.

Mom had the onions and

tomatoes sliced and waiting.

My two younger brothers

came to the kitchen and sat

when they heard me and dad come in.

Phil was a Holocaust survivor.

He had a number tattooed on his arm.

I think of Phil, his deli and how I felt

then, now as I read Trump wants to

designate Jews, not as a religion,

but as a race, like the Nazis did.

Trump says to fight anti-semitism.

But perhaps it’s also the first

step in the round-up and extermination.

A - shame-marten-big

 

FacebookTwitterGoogle+PinterestLinkedInShare

->