New Poems

Let’s raise a glass to Yiddle Giddle Dovid

the hunchback of Kolmar, Poland.

May his memory be a blessing! 

A distant relative of my grandfather Solly 

as was most everyone in the shtetl.

The boys would rub his hump for luck

on the way to shul. The village was divided

as to whether Yiddle was an idiot

or a holy fool: “A single coin in an empty jar 

makes the most noise.” Yiddle met his demise

falling into the community cesspool.

It’s been said that he could have been saved, 

but none of the townspeople were brave enough 

to go in after him. Much to my family’s shame.

When Caroline goes on a genealogy bender

and tells our sons they are related 

to George Washington and James Monroe 

and various founders of our nation, 

I remind them Yiddle Giddle Dovid

lurks in their not so distant past

begging change in another world:

“With money in my pocket I am wise, 

handsome and I sing well too.”

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