Exhibit C: Isaac
I was a youth. That could mean anything. A yearling, lion-colored, rippled hills, or black bristling my lip. When you took the knife, I became very still. Thought and wonder peeled away like burnt bark,…
Bellingham Review Contributor
Ayelet Amittay
Ayelet Amittay is a poet and nurse practitioner in Oregon. Her poems appear in Tupelo Quarterly, Michigan Quarterly Review, Whale Road Review, and others. She has received fellowships from the Yiddish Book Center and the Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. You can find her at @ayeletpoet.