KAMIONKA STRUMILOVA

Kamionka Strumilowa is 41 kilometers from Lvov

And is called Kamionka because of the huge

Rocks which wandered in with the glaciers and,

Liking the look of the place, stayed on.

Esther never thought much of Kamionka;

She was of stately Lvov which could,

If it were hungry, have swallowed Kamionka

And had Przemysl for dessert. Max, though,

Was fond of his home town and their son,

Born 7,182 miles away, knew the names

Of every street and every family. When ghosts

From Kamianka find themselves in New York

They sometimes come by though my father,

Since he died, is seldom found at home.

LOSING GRAVITY

My ancestor from Karlin
Wasn't mad so it must be
He was brave, not caring
When gravity, in one of her moods,
Released her claim on him
So, in the middle of prayer,
He started towards the ceiling.
Witnesses report he continued
Without losing a syllable.
Services over, the congregation
Watched him treading air
Until he washed against a pillar
And climbed down to join them.
The chazan handed him rocks
(Rocks? What were rocks doing
In a synagogue? Praying, I guess
Or perhaps dozing. Hard to tell.)
Which he put in his coat's pockets
So he could make it back home
Even if a vagrant wind thought
Wouldn't it be rare fun
To blow Reb Aaron to China?

TENANTS

Sometimes he touches a wheel and the wheel cries out
"So angry! Where was all this anger born?"
Or his foot snubs against a rock which asks
"What is it that has made you so sad?"
But mostly he does not know he is angry
Does not know he is the very father of grief.
His anger has grown so tall, his grief so clever
He cannot see them or that they've filled his house
So he  lives now in the attic, stowed away
Among cobwebs and mice and housegods.

MEETING

Great jags of rock there were and scree
And broken shingles though surely no house
Had ever stood there. Unfriendly shapes,
Dimly seen, darted in the water -- such things
As may feed a sleeping kraken waiting the world's end
So he can wake and roar and rise and die.
All that is worst of me sat looking in the dark water
Not angry, for a change, but only sad and tired
I sat  beside him; he seemed too wretched to be feared
There was nothing to say; the debts between us
Were ones I had left unpaid.

                                            Every wicked urge
Has his own wicked urge who follows him about
Tempting him to commit good deeds.