At the grocery in Outremont
I listen to the men ahead of me in line
Argue over a posek:
The laws of purification
For a woman.
It is summer;
The Sabbath wont be in
But the grocery closes
The same time, every week.
“It has been this way for generations,”
reads the sign on the sliding door.
And the pale child pulling at his fathers fringes, asking—
tati, vus tut der goy in unzer grocery store?
Ariel Resnikoff was shortlisted for the Oxonian Review Poetry Competition 2013.