slichos morning

..I lay in bed
and wait
for the old shamas
with his hammer
in hand
scarf tied
around his neck
cap over his mel-
ancholy eyes
..to come knocking
on my....shudder
the breeze
through the window
blows a serious
wind...into my bones
...as I space out
I notice a faint glimmer
of light
and realize..
..he's probably not
coming anymore
..most likely
killed in Auschwitz
...so I wait for
the alarm on my
iphone to send
...me off
out of my imagination
..into the well lit
shul....for
selichos
...at least the crickets
are still there...
..and the crunching
of my footsteps
..in the near empty
streets
...if not
cobblestone


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