Maideleh

My Yiddish maiden
twirls in a dress
It has pockets she says

When you were climbing trees
your mom sent you away
They’ll fix you she assured

In nights you like to neglect
they exposed you to photographs,
cold baths and electric shocks

Are Evangelicals in San Fran?
You asked, assembling the unconverted
There may be a place for us

Your voice turns soft
Am I too much?
Did your mother think so?

O maideleh, you wake me with song,
make me giggle with startling
stories and sudden silliness

You tiptoe through our house
I follow, as your charge
Closing cupboards in your trail

Pietje Kobus is an MFA student of the Mississippi University for Women in Columbus. She writes creative non-fiction and poetry, mostly about the long-lasting damage of harmful messages received during childhood. When she is not writing you can find her in Santa Fe, NM playing with her dogs or taking pictures along a trail.