Before All the World by Moriel Rothman-Zecher

Author:Moriel Rothman-Zecher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

yoh and so after that

here it is always after and after

amerike amerike gey kakn afn yam

et cetera

The Revolutionary Worker’s Role in the Address and Redress of the Negro Problem in America1

And so yoh after the three had togetherclinked their drinks to hope for good lives and for peace, et cetera, and had eacheaten their eggs, what were it must be said not terrible,2 amidst an unexpectishly ungnawful silence,

yoh and of course there was what to say

but yoh also there was time

and also there was being in the same room

o wa

yoh aderabe it is better to not yet talk

for always won’t the words be not enough

Gittl stood to help wash the dishes but Charles said for her to leave it, that she and Lion should sit and talk, and Gittl longed, for a moment, to be allowed, instead, to move the dishes around under the stammer of water, but turned, finally, and looked at Leyb’s face across the table, and saw that it was Leyb’s face, what she had seen after she had heard him gurgling under a pile of people and pulled him out, and wiped the stink from his eyes with her thumbs, and helped him walk alone into the ocean, and she looked away from his eyes, and Gittl said, zug mir, zis’ele.3

And then Leyb spoke, in the language of the dustvillage what poured from his mouth like a river of lambsblood and sorrel. He started from the beginning

yoh for a long hour had been in amerike

Leyb of Zatelsk

yoh so this is how a mayseh came to sit for him

forgive him o wa

when the waters and the skywaters were the same inside him, when he was still Leyb Mireles, with no dreamer’s dream, even, of Halper or philadelphiye or Cricket’s or of this particular apartmental midian, when the contentedly anxious dead, what were placed in the ground one by only one, and the falldownish tailors and the hipthrustish prayers and the matriarchish chessplayers still danced together each yontiff to the strum of his older brother’s balalaike, when his colleagues the hedgehogs and fireants helped him unspool his betumbled mind by the slerm of the hairish river under clouds of everburning smoke, the scent of burstberries on fingers and the sight of fishoil stains on pages, when Zatelsk and all its glowing soggish shrubbery was aflame, adullflame, but aflame, yoh, with lifesome tayve. He did not linger in the forest. He did not linger on the water. He told Gittl of angrysad Yutke, and her talking sock of a husband, of their Peterful and Joanish springoffs, of school what he had finished, of a yenki jew what had told him of the goyish watering hole for birds what was called Cricket’s, of his first and second time there.

During this unspooling, Charles had been putterish and glideful throughout his apartment, opening the lone window to hear the rain, fingerflicking his fireish zipper, making more hot water, sitting on the springish couch with a Joycesome tome in his lap, longfingers of

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