Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-four
Spring 2014
Don’t worry about it
      Zok nit kin vey
Julie T. Standig



My son decides to marry:

the apple cart collapses;

personalities begin to clash.


I reach out to the dead.

What do I do?

I begin to sew.


Esta, muslin doll, color of Coney Island,

blue, red, crystal, beige and gold,

covered in buttons carefully chosen,

by hands that once held my own.

When shaken these buttons click together

like teaspoons against glass cups,

perfect round breasts are red and gold.

The one on her head: fabric fluff!

Two bold beige buttons clasp her buttocks,

she has power to summon the dead.

A pox on them! cries Grandma Leah,

Mamala, tell me instead!


When I hold her she penetrates my palm.

When alone she takes flight,

across the room, from chair to chair,

then back to her throne with that indigo stare.

If necessary

she will

take you out.

I know.

Es ken gemolt zein.

About Julie Standig

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