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Then To write here, In this language, And, make it Mine--the brokenness-- Not its own nor-- "First there was a boom! The fear that, In speaking you, Faltering, Motionless sounds-- Then everything was still. The thought of Desiring you, Here again, A failure of Such feeling-- Then I cried out The occult syntax of Another holiness Imposes upon me, Marring you-- His name." It's been so long, But you still move, Even if Your absence Encroaches, and Does not amass, And no more Vestiges Remain, or, Never were, Of adroitness, Vascular, Advancing. This wistfulness Is a knowledge In disarray. |
Avi Levy is a poet and student living in Jerusalem.
More Poetry:
January, 2004
November, 2003
September, 2003
July, 2003
May, 2003
Persistence of Vision
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Then
Avi Levy
Reading Toqueville in An Election Year
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Dead Sea
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Life During Wartime
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Faith
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From previous issues:
When I Met Humility, I Saw Letters
Abraham Mezrich
Anything You Want to Be
Ben Cohen