Stefanie Shapiro

Stefanie Rose Shapiro holds a Doctor of Letters in Writing from Drew University, an MPH from Harvard, and an MA in Forensic Psychology from John Jay College of Criminal Justice. She is a Lecturer in Rhetoric and Composition at SUNY Maritime College. Her work has appeared in DarkWinter Literary Magazine, New Jersey Bards Poetry Review, Wensum, and Platform Review.

First Crush (POEM)

You are a Zi-o-nist, 

a Jew lover,

a girl in my ceramics class

with green glasses and 

acne sang out.

I was in tenth grade.

Do not date the Jew,

don’t kiss her,

don’t talk to her, 

the loud-mouthed girl warned.

I didn’t know what was wrong 

with the quiet girl 

whose locker 

was next to mine,

pierced nose and

purple-painted lips. 

I didn’t know what was 

wrong with liking Ariella.

My mother took me for a car ride 

in her peeled-paint, red Civic. 

She said, Son, I must

leave, return home.

To your homeland? I asked

That was the only reason

that made sense then.

Was she running away 

from me or them? 

I was in tenth grade.

We had never been apart.

Her curly bracket lips 

turned down, 

fair skin blushed, 

thick eyebrows kissed.

She rolled a ruby ring 

round and round 

her thin finger,

its hold loose.

She looked at me, 

didn’t answer.

The car’s crooked 

wipers cleared away 

rain. I was underwater.

I took the subway

and the bus and 

the crowded city 

streets to school.

I raised my eyes up

tall buildings,

too far to reach,

closer than my mother.

The stupid girl sat 

down next to me while 

I molded clay for a 

ring holder.

You don’t matter, she said.

I don’t matter.

I was in a sea of hate. 

Its viscosity kept me stable.

You are a dirty Zionist, she said.

Yes, yes I am.