“My Boss is a Jewish Carpenter”
Arise-
before dawn
dreams fall away-
like gauze from a leper.
Cast aside sleep & blankets-
-he (you) is (are) risen! hurrah!
The blue glow, voices from the t.v.
death & dying, despair, hope for the coming day.
The last of the night lifts from the sky-
red, a glow of red rises.
Ominous or hopeful superstition & so-
I pray on oil stains-
in the driveway, I fall to my knees.
Where bone-caps meet asphalt &
I (you?) are driven to the ground.
Gravity is not this powerful.
My thoughts turn to work,
dirty knees will be hidden under a desk.
I turn my head to the last streak of red in the sky, cursing-
work & the fleeting moments of clarity, peace & truth
(and dirty knees, and thoughts that fall away after sleep, and pieces of dreams, and the gauzy veil, and the red sky- these things only are real)
I rise,
fumble with the keys & set fire to the ignition-
back out into the street.
“My Boss is a Jewish Carpenter”:
the bumper sticker reads, on a passing car.
