No one ever doubted my father
Was a Jew. He’d met God
In a synagogue and posses of angels
Had flown him about when he slept.
(Once, when they were running late,
The angels dropped him the last few
feet
So he woke as he was falling into bed.)
On his last day, though, Raven the
Trickster,
Whose stories he knew well, sat nearby
Singing him to sleep with the
adventures
The two of them had shared
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