I almost go to church
I feel the missing
two parts trinity
you are only apparition
nearly a figment of my imagination
never phantasm enough
you cast
your shadow, a reel on repeat
to capture credulous fish
alluring
all breaking breaking breaking
bread that never rises
from crucifixion
you holy
godforsaken
ghost
“Remember the wind. Remember her voice.
taken from a telegram from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel to PresidentJohn F. Kennedy, June 16, 1963, agreeing to a White House meeting on racial justice
His proposal came in caps
“SPECIAL DELIVERY”
three times underlined.
JFK
months away
from a bullet through his brain,
and Heschel,
graying in his haste
to put things right,
destined to walk with a King.
“CHURCH, SYNAGOGUE HAVE FAILED, THEY MUST
R EPENT . ”
The “they” typed
between the lines
a space in “r epent”
the period widowed.
Words drunk with urgency
staggered across the paper
imploring their reader:
“I PROPOSE THAT YOU MR PRESIDENT DECLARE STATE OF
MORAL EMERGENCY .”
Still, police manned
the water cannons,
defending deafened ears.
Klansmen kept killing.
“…THE NEGRO PROBLEM WILL BE LIKE THEWEATHER,”
he prophesied – “EVERYBODY TALKS ABOUT IT BUT NO BODY
DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT.”
The “no” and “body” tenuously penciled together, proofread
on the fly, no longer a no to a body. Or any body.
And like the weather…
still it rained,
still it rains,
still it reigns,
his “MARSHALLPLAN” for “NEGROS”
archived online
with his printed plea
for “SPIRITUAL XXXX AUDACITY”
Drooping clothes, heavy on the line, are still wet.
Doves hunch under the eaves gossiping, soft throated
coos inhale sunlight, exhale hesitant commentary.
“Did you tease…the dog?”
“In this rain?…Who could?”
“Stinky `dog…poor thing, poor thing.”
“She eats…too much.”
“And you…eat her crumbs.”
Scolding Cardinal…tik tik tik tik tok!
“She’s one…of them.”
“Lost gen…eration.”
“If I could…I would.”
“I would…if I could.”
“Good day…to you.”
“Good day…to you.”
Whoosh, flutter, flap
Time to get up.
it’s blackberry season
when we drink brambles
and dance in the drizzle
by the pond
until I have to lie down
in the wet grass
and when I can stand
you wrap me snug with a towel
in your arms
and your voice thrums in my ear
under thoughts of how much I love you
because you love how sometimes
I just need to lie down in the rain
If you ever needed living proof that
Slow and steady
Eventually wins the race
Ask yourself how many times
You’ve driven on the interstate
And passed by the crushed shells of turtles
Drying in the hot June sun
How many do you remember
Let this be your reminder that
Just because they never saw you get there
Doesn’t mean you never did
Romance is the song of love
it is the lyric
the melody
the refrain
chorus
and the
hook
Honey-
when it is good
it is definitely
and always
the hook
