“Let’s have a look” he says, gesturing
for me to drop trou, the tattered basketball
shorts I donned for this occasion, knowing
the moment when they would make silent
contact with the stoic hospital floor, avoiding

a lengthy ceremony of belt-undoing, zipper-
fumbling, shimmying my hips so my pants
would finally let me go — exactly the thing
I hoped to be doing more of, more freely,

after the surgery, the healing, and 20-30
“emissions” to “clear out the backlog.”
The blue gloves match the fragile mask,
turning me over in his hand, checking for
any interlopers or, perhaps, assessing

the quality of my circumcision. He lets me
go, untenderly, like a disappointed lover unable
to excite me, and pauses. I think I hear him take
a breath.

“Have you read Emil Fackenheim?”
he asks me. “Who’s that?” I lie,
not making eye- contact,
lest he can smell my fabrication,
detect any hesitation, refuse to help me
the with what I need.

I’m told to schedule an appointment for
two weeks, shave to facilitate the surgery,
take the valium right before I come in,
and have a Shayna Maydele drive me
home. I rush off with the informational
packet, not turning around, lest I turn
into a pillar of salt or, worse, confront
his disappointment.

Brian Hillman (he/him) is an assistant professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Towson University. His academic work focuses on Jewish mysticism, popular culture, and literature. His work has appeared in the Journal of Jewish Identities, Jewish Studies Quarterly, and Women in Judaism: A Multi-disciplinary e-Journal, among other venues.