Lisa Shea, the editor, had contacted me b/c I had used a slang word for male genitalia which I had to remove. You're also not allowed to curse.
It's written from the point of view of Eddie Washington, a gay young black man, who is saved by The Good Doctor, who just happens to work at Einstein Medical Center, where I had my kidney transplant. The doctor is based on one Sarah Perloff, who I had once or twice when suffering from complications of my transplant.
She had told me her husband had died from cancer. I disguised everything.
Lisa wrote all of us contributors with these enthusiastic words:
Happy Autumn Equinox!
The Autumn Equinox issue of Mused is now live. This is the final issue of our eighth full year! It's just stunning. This next Winter issue will be the first of our ninth season!! Thank you all so much for your support.
The issue is spectacular. There are just amazing stories and poems in this. It is heartwarming how many high quality artists trust us with their works.
This is the second story I've wrin based on a personal story I heard at Einstein.
The first story was called "Good Morning, Mrs Washington," also published by Bella Online. A black woman named Bernice had a stroke and went into a long coma. Lisa Shea helped me develop the story.
NAZI WATERS is a poem I wrote in which I 'make peace' with the Germans who killed my people.
Ray's Road Review published it.
Bought the sparkling water at the now-defunct-dammit Bethayres Market, which has been replaced with an Ace Hardware Store.
I believe the late Stephen Weinstein really liked the poem. I still miss the guy and think of him often.Poem by Ruth Z. Deming
This is about a sparkling water I purchased at the Shop-Rite, whose label reads: Cap may forcefully eject. Point away from face and people when opening. Product of Germany.
My nimble fingers
gilded in blood-red nails
bring you from the supermarket
to my kitchen
naturally sparkling wasser from the
underground pools
of your vast lands.
Beethoven once stood there
drank deeply
loved ceaselessly
memories spun like gold
into symphonies
rivaling the songbirds.
I twist off your cap
so like a head
and pour you,
waters of the Rhineland,
into my glass
merry bubbles
splash my face
asking forgiveness.
This is my toast
to the chastened people of Germany
we have all made mistakes
not quite like yours
but yes we are mortal
and allow the river of time
to staunch the grief unstoppable.
Is that you, Anne Frank
pushing a baby carriage
across Tristan’s fair land?
Your father beside you
hand on the arm of his honeycake
“We made it through, proud daughter,
and dwell together in a finer land.”
I’ve chosen this morning
to become one with my people
and yours
their skulls and shinbones
eroding in the pit
lending flavor and legend
to the underground spring.
I drink
deeply
heartily
hungrily
trying to forgive my captors,
ordinary people
bewitched in gaunt times.
I hold up my glass:
water
so forgiving
uncomplaining
a river of joy
the simplest wish of all:
I’m thirsty,
Here’s a glass of water.
Then drink
and let joy reign
through
my veins
impossible
as my people’s sorrow
flood me with every
swallow
I’m the German
And the Jew.
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