coins in my sock

coins in my sock

i skipped down the lane to the grocer.

mother bid me fetch a leg of lamb

roots and garlic, greens from the garden

and wild onions on the hill.

and coins in my sock i swung around

the pillory stocks singing my song,

blythe.

coins in my sock, not on, in my hand.

a rich woman i was in my mind,

cantor to the temple of the day

crooning.

coins in my sock to the rhythm.

ruthlessly, he struck me in the face,

and coins in my sock, clattered to the ground,

my eyes glazing,

the final image of crimson blood

on the white silk sock,

my coins on the gravel.

no longer held.

socked.

i am now where the wild onions bloom

each spring.

when passover begins,

and mother needs lamb

for the table.

ⴲ.