Mad Lib for Yiddish Poet Dora Teitelboim

Dora says the sea in Tel Aviv is the color of a robin’s egg. She leaves Poland because it 
						                               (NOUN)
chases her like a/an angry stream, remembers the sermons of France as a water pump.
	                           (ADJ) 		                   (PLURAL NOUN)		               (NOUN)
When the fruit trees speak Yiddish, her hair spirals in sorrow. The nigun she hums sounds
            (PLURAL NOUN)         	                 (VERB) 
like breath caressing this unyielding life. If it had words, it would say, In the hush it is your 
      (NOUN)
heart. In the end, love blankets her poems, unfolds the night with music. If I could greet her
			               (VERB)	                               (TIME OF DAY)
after dark, I’d say shadow and come over here. She’d wear a scarf and sing “Blackbird” with
                	       (NOUN)	     (IMPERATIVE)	      (ITEM OF CLOTHING)    (NAME OF SONG)
me. She’d swell, a finger of honey meant not only for tasting, but shattering. There’d be no 
                (VERB)  (BODY PART)				                             (-ING VERB)
time for wine, only words swimming into the sky: Ikh her dos gezang shoyn fun shtern.
          (BEVERAGE)					             (YIDDISH LINE FROM A TEITELBOIM POEM)
Already I hear the singing of stars.

Marc Chagall Les Maries Au-Dessus Du Village