On Being Jewish, Perhaps

The staircase is L-shaped
with a huge cactus in the corner.
Be careful with that,
my mother says every time
we go to visit my aunt Pepa.
Today we are there
because her son has died.

Her son was away, in college.
He wanted to be a lawyer but
liked music most of all.
He died suddenly, they say.

Everybody is in the kitchen,
my aunt and the neighbors,
all women, dressed in black.
My mother is not,
she didn’t have time to change.

My aunt Pepa is sitting in a low chair,

Nun Eating a Small Apple

We are in a bus,
my mother and I.
We are going to Zaragoza.
There is a nun sitting next to us.
She looks down,
hands crossed over a bag …