Sarah Sarai | Big Little Lambs

My nephew and niece,

half-white all-Black,

don’t care about my divided self

my split-at-the-rootness,

Christian blah blah

Jewish blah blah.

White + white is two whites

spooning in a pudding of white.

With all respect to my folks.

Hey, I know Black is not

for sure saintly as most saints

are not for sure saintly.

But for their time on the rack.

Let’s rest this poem on an oven

rack as if it were lamb led

to dinner, a lamb dripping

with blood, connection, and shame.

This poem is heliocentric as

the ego basking in itself.

Nephew and niece, they grow,

as we’re said to in California,

sprouting leaf after shiny leaf

happy as neon or sundrops.

Erin thanked me for the fifty!

Come on. Sing Happy Birthday.