‘ECHAD’ (ONE)

Suddenly he’s there in the doorway, blinking. The blare of light
stunning the tail-end of a dream. He puts small hands
to his eyes, covers and uncovers them, tries to get used to
the stab of voices, the clash of them crying out in wonder. His parents
are smiling, their guests enchanted, everyone waiting for him to say

what he wants, leaving his dark room and suddenly
here. Images pierce his gaze: a dish with peanuts,
a bare thigh, boots, an ashtray. He’s aware of his feet
in damp socks. Someone says his eyes remind her
of so-and-so, the name strange to him. Laughter. Coughing. His mother

goes to him, her smile too late, her hands of no help: humiliation
swells like a panicked cry, overwhelming, but all of a sudden
he smoothes down the creases, strokes back his curls.
His smile brightens – a pure joy that blocks
the talons clawing their way up his throat.
He won’t let them out. Today he will be echad.

אחד

אחד