Thursday, December 15, 2005

Simchat Torah

You’d suppose I would feel you—could feel you
Step up and take you up, skin to shoulder.
We swing in circles—men march, step, spin through
Fingers smashed against oak, chin to shoulder

Do you think I’m worthy? Do you cringe your
leather skin and wooden bones? Would you strike
me down? I’ve sinned you know. You do. Singed your
happy holy holiday with my likes.

I’m barely here you know. My heavy thing
Head wedged to back, sweat, songs and velvet smells
Breath—crushing circles of men, dance and sing
and I’m barely here you know. You know well

But you love me anyway don’t you? I
can feel it as I step up to lift you.

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