Sarah tutors her friend in mathematics
for the college entrance examination.
Ottilie writes poetry in the margins.
She asks, Wasn’t your cousin the first
Jewish student at Cambridge? We’ll be the first girls.
Numa was first to do math. Sarah takes a breath.
I’m proud of being Jewish and where I come from,
but can’t care about ancient tales no one can prove.
I’ll join my mother for meals on holy days,
but my faith rests in facts and a better future.
You’re like a girl in a novel I read. Ottilie raises a book.
She created her own rules and religion,
based not on men’s laws but those of the goddess of earth.
I’m going to call you Hertha.
I’m no goddess. But the name
makes her feel strong, so she keeps it.
No one will call her Sarah again.