YOM
KIPPUR SHABBAT a
chorus of scolding aunts rises out of the dark matter
I
call for rescue "I can't stop working on this book!" you
arrive at my door brimming with questions make
sure my canteen is full
Malibu
Beach condoms
old socks decorate
brush we
walk along the ridge stare
down into roiling waters you
ask "did you go to temple fast?
how
much do you really remember?" I
give you this sketch
a child in a blue tweed coat matching hat
waits with her father outside a shul
her Zada remains to
lullabye the dead
the child wants shelter from slant autumn heat
to be inside the mystery taste
the singing
the day before she had shopped
with her mother at open-air markets
she wears the aroma of fish on ice
she carries the music of women hondling
in a clay jar on her head as she travels up-river
she stumbles the
jar breaks
no one believes the spillage is hers
you
have just returned from Baywood Park described
pelicans' morning feed display skimmed
over the beloved wrestling his dreams we
debate the names of shore-birds a
surfer emerges board
in front of him buttocks
exposed we
giggle at his sheepish smile ignore
helicopter graffiti
boy beating his sorrows on
the cliffs above the worshippers our
secrets our squabbles become
the bread and cheese we share ghosts
gather on the reef we
greet them and feast by Nancy Shiffrin copyright 2000 THE HOLY LETTERS
Nancy
Shiffrin is the author of
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