Thursday, April 14, 2016


Rav Samael is at the city gate at dawn
So the Messiah will be greeted
If he comes today. The soldiers nod;
The ancient public letter writer smiles
And offers him an apple slice.
She sits by her rickety table
Leaning on one elbow, enjoying the shade.
When a customer approaches
A pen appears in her hand; an ink bottle
Uncorks itself. The sand which she'll throw
On the wet ink when she's done
Rattles impatiently in its box.

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