poetry by Layle Silbert
Friday morning
I braid my hair
in front of the mirror
cannot see behind my head
think of braids
I might have made
on a Friday morning
kneading dough
separating it into strands
& braiding them
into a crown
round as a rose
as only our village did
for Sabbath bread
the whole world would know
here is a challah from Tels
taste it
poetry by Layle Silbert
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