AUBADE

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.

PUBLIC LETTER WRITER

For a small fee, the public letter writer
Will write you a dream. She is very wise
And very calm and very old. Her eyes
Are large and quite sad. In truth,
Those who say she has been dead
Since 1912 have the right of it. No matter;
You will find her sitting in the shade
Of a long-demolished building.
She will see you two blocks away
Noticing your shop window reflection
Looks nothing like you today.
Before you were born she knew
You would come, and what dream
You would ask for and what dream
You should have asked for instead.