SABRINA ORAH MARK

SABRINA ORAH MARK

THE TRAITOR

A few days before the first snow the soldiers dressed like children began to appear. “Come quick,” said Beatrice, fetching Walter B. away from his scripture, “and bring candy!” Walter B. pulled on his robe and joined Beatrice on the balcony. “Oh look,” said Beatrice, “you can see their small, sweet eyes peeking through the bramble.” Walter B. threw a handful of red gumdrops into the air and watched the soldiers dressed like children scatter, and raise their arms in glee. “Feels sinful, doesn’t it?” purred Beatrice. They watched them stand in the field and chew. “Which one,” asked Walter B., “do you think is the hero?” “That one.” said Beatrice. “Definitely that one. The one with the mittens.” “Yes,” agreed Walter B., “the others seem less… festooned.” “And which one do you think,” asked Walter B., “is the traitor?” Beatrice bit her lip and looked around. “Maybe that one,” she said. “The one with the orange flower in the pocket of his vest.” Walter B. agreed, but to be certain he thought that he should ask. “Little traitor,” called out Walter B. The traitor looked up. “I knew it!” said Beatrice, clapping her hands. The traitor came closer. The wind shook the orange flower loose from his pocket, but he did not run after it. He missed his mother. The traitor came closer, but then he stopped. He curled into his flowerless vest and fell asleep. Walter B. and Beatrice yawned. The soldiers dressed like children opened their mouths as wide as they could, but there was no more candy. There would never again be more candy. And so they sailed away to another land.

THE MARKS OF WALTER B.’S POWER

At the assembly, Walter B. listed for Beatrice the marks of his power. “One,” he began, “‘delight,’ two ‘refusal,’ three ‘blockage,’ four ‘the momentous event’…” “The momentous event?” interrupted Beatrice. “Yes,” said Walter B., “the momentous event.” Walter B. turned the page. “Now,” he asked, “where was I?” “You were,” said Beatrice, “at the momentous event.” The humans began to file into the auditorium. Walter B. waited for them to take their seats and then he continued. “Five ‘immanence,’ six ‘surrender’…” At “surrender” there was a whoop from the back of the room, and then there was a holler. Walter B. blushed and then he continued. “Seven ‘possession’…” “For this momentous event,” interrupted Beatrice, “there was a broadcast?” Walter B. was not getting out of Beatrice’s interruptions a kick. “Owing to the intimate nature of the momentous event,” sighed Walter B., “there was no broadcast.” “Not even a flier?” asked Beatrice with her last shred. “No,” said Walter B., “not even a flier.” Weeping filled the room. It was becoming too clear to Walter B. that Beatrice had forgotten how to listen to his litany without deep feelings of exclusion. Nevertheless, he continued. “Eight ‘enchantment,’ nine ‘evasion’…” “Not even,” asked Beatrice, “a hint? Not even a clue?” The humans threw their heads back and closed their eyes. Walter B. turned his notes over and stared at Beatrice. “What would you like,” asked Walter B., “for me to tell you? That it was a night of eternal bliss and fear?” “That would be nice,” said Beatrice, “for starters.” “Fine,” said Walter B. “It was a night of eternal bliss and fear.” Beatrice gasped. She began to tremble with disgrace. The humans began to quickly file out of the auditorium. They swore never to speak of the assembly again, and they swore to forgive each other for what they now knew. They swore to look away when they would, years later, come upon Beatrice in her yard with her spools, and her lights, and her dust, trying to build for Walter B. the exact momentous event he once attended without her. And although they knew not to watch Beatrice as she measured and sawed, they often thought back to that day at the assembly and wondered, hopelessly, if the tenth mark of Walter B.’s power was time.

PARASHAS ACHAREI MOS

So as not to commit the crime which crime instrument did you use?

Were there meats promised?

Describe for me the "triumph of Poland."

Describe for me the "triumph of spectacle."

Is it true that he touched, in your absence, the embroidery with his mouth?

Or with his hands?

Vaccination excites me.

And what of milk?

And what of day?

And what of Beatrice?

How did you think this would end?

Nests excite me.

I've always been lucky.

Can you elaborate on that?

Do humans matter as much as what they ruin?

Prayer excites me, asymmetrically.