Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Shabbat Tryptich 3

The people knew I would offer my sweet voice
sending our prayers above the currents
wafting heavenward faster than airl
those chosen would grind on, voiced
wobbling in leaden braces, bearing the liturgy like sackcloth.
cain, you got a bad rap.
Would that I could stride in like a doctor, lawyer, or banker
with first fruits of lucre, smoke rising straight heavenward.
Cain offered the strength of his own sinews,
the sacrifice found no favor
I the grace of my own voice
the sacrifice found no favor
God sent an enormous mantis,
wings chartreuse, silky in the spotlight.
swirling in my music, she spun to me
alighted on my cheek.
the offering found favor
I must remember to pray before insects

No comments:

Post a Comment