Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois
Marxist Miracle
Petra was bored with manual labor
I wasn’t made to be a kibbutznik she said
Zionism gave way
to seeking enlightenment in India
where she contracted a bad case of dysentery
lay suffering on the dirt floor of a hut for months
lost the ability to intervene in life on her own behalf
was a millimeter from death
when a moth fluttered its wings
and the tide of her health turned
Her homecoming to the kibbutz
found her much reduced in size and strength
her face gaunt
nearly unrecognizable
but the other volunteers did remember her bullying
back when she was physically powerful
how she would sneak up behind them
and put them into painful hammerlocks
and make them beg
for mercy
Revenge is a dish best served cold, said Lena, a Ukranian
It was one of the few complete English sentences
Lena could recite
She also knew how to order a pastrami sandwich
She was a small, thin raven-haired exile who
when she wasn’t working in the kibbutz kitchen
wore a ratty white fox collar
that had belonged to her iconic mother
and drenched herself with cheap perfume
called Moonlight in Jerusalem
she got at the market in a nearby Arab town
real cheap
because she let the merchant feel her up
When I climbed through her barracks window at night
to make love to her
I brought a wet washcloth
to wipe it away with
Otherwise I would gag
I like you as you are I told her with all your own odors
but she didn’t understand
what I was saying
and only smiled extravagantly
She had teeth like a weasel
which shone in the dark
especially when in the throes of passion
When she punched Petra in the belly
and pushed her down onto the dirt and gravel
she felt that a Marxist/Biblical miracle had occurred
The first will be last
the last first
Small
I took the kids’ orders
and struggled against my urges to overfill
The cones I created looked doll-like
very wrong
My signature had been excess
Now my work had been standardized
Under Eppa’s supervision
I bowed down to the profit motive
Eppa was the boss’s daughter
and my girlfriend
and I cringed
as she hovered over me
watching my every move
enforcing her father’s will
With every miniature cone I made
I fought the impulse to tear off my apron
throw it to the floor
and stomp out
never to see Eppa again
but she had conquered me sexually
I could not imagine my nights without her
With each tiny scoop I held out
to the disappointed children
who had grown used to my generosity
my depression engine whirred
reminding me that I was worthless
that my life was unfolding badly
I kept working
Sweat broke out on my forehead
Eppa examined me as if I were an insect
The children wondered if they could use me
in their next science project
The sun streamed through the window
I felt an ocular migraine coming on
It was like watching a sinister stranger
approach from a distance
I reached into my shirt pocket for my Ray-Bans
I’d forgotten them
I cursed myself
I kept scooping ice cream
Strawberry
Black Walnut
I trembled on the edge of the migraine
but it didn’t come
