Snapshot from the Warsaw Ghetto

Time trains derail
every now and again,

stranded on a sand-ended track.

Atavism prevails.
Ghost riders grasp
satchels, parcels, envelopes.

Eighty years later
no birds fly over chimney tops,
their detour  a permanent imprint.

I recall
the girl in the photograph
that snapped my unborn heart.

the way of the wolf

landscape is a feast
of scent; flesh an invitation
rent from milk

and fur, lupus luna
miscreant.

prayer for a walking stick

May your words and steps
stay kind throughout
these shoeless times

paper shipwreck

I know time
as paper discarded
under rainwater

that slipping scent

grown pungent
after a shipwreck
when each word

counts as something
more than its scant self.

lovely in death

oh, darling you look lovely
in death, like the rodent
sentry who sacrifices itself.

Spend a lifetime
discovering the beehive
of queen and drone,
give and take, save and invest.

Uranium glass fingertips
reach toward a calculated distance.

 

 

You have, as always,
my undivided attention,
pity and reverence.