Samuel Menashe

Boughs berserk Spin one hill Into space Standing still Olive trees race On the field below Moulded white oxen Ponder each furrow A man behind them Cries Via, Via

Eyes that spurn yet invite Like spikes in the sunlight Of Manhattan’s high-rise— Babylon’s ladies outshine Daughters of Jerusalem, Zion is no easy climb

Now and again I am here now And now is when I’m here again

Ghost I house In this old flat— Your outpost— My aftermath

Sheets entangle him Naked on his bed Like a toppled mast Slack sails bedeck At sea, no ballast For that even keel He cannot keep— No steering wheel As he falls asleep

No more than that Dead cat shall I Escape the corpse I kept in shape For the day off Immortals take

My father drummed darkness Through the underbrush Until lightning struck I take after him Clouds crowd the sky Around me as I run Downhill on a high— I am my mother's son Born long ago In the storm's eye

In my coat I sit At the window sill Wintering with snow That did not melt It fell long ago At night, by stealth I was where I am When the snow began

1 Scribe out of work At a loss for words Not his to begin with, The man life passed by Stands at the window Biding his time 2 Time and again And now once more I climb these stairs Unlock this door— No name where I live Alone in my lair With one bone to pick And no time to spare

Old as I am This candle I light For you today May be the last one Of your afterlife With me, your son— With me you die twice.