We bless this store brand slice of dollar bread,
This cup of stale wine,
Upon this plastic folded table.
We give praise for our studio apartment,
A concrete sukkah in a gentrified desert.
We give thanks for microwaved dinners,
And threadbare five dollar t-shirts:
Symbols of survival,
Souvenirs from our journey
Through the mitzrayim of capitalism.
We hold gratitude for this night,
Amid the many shabbats spent behind cash registers and hot stoves,
When holiness was a luxury we could not afford.
We claim this time as ours,
This rest as resistance.
