She. My people came from Korelitz
where they grew yellow cucumbers
and studied the Talmud
He. Mine pored over the mud
of mangold- and potato-pits
or flicked through kale plants from Comber
as bibliomancers of old
went a-flicking through deckle-mold
She. Mine would lie low in the shtetl
when they heard the distant thunder
stolen by the Cossacks
He. It was potato sacks
lumped together on a settle
mine found themselves lying under
the Peep O’Day Boys from Loughgall
making Defenders of us all
She. Mine once controlled the sugar trade
from the islets of Langerhans
and were granted the deed
to Charlottesville. He. Indeed
My people called a spade a spade
and were admitted to the hanse
of pike- and pickax-men, shovels
leaning to their lean-to hovels
She. Mine were trained to make a suture
after the bomb and the bombast
have done their very worst
He. Between fearsad and verst
we may yet construct our future
as we’ve reconstructed our past
and cry out, my love, each to each
from his or her own quicken-queach
She. Each from his stand of mountain ash
will cry out over valley farms
spotlit with pear blossom
He. There some young Absalom
picks his way through cache after cache
of ammunition and small arms
hidden in grain wells, while his nag
tugs at a rein caught on a snag