How quick and bright she is A whirlwind A sprite A coiled spring unwinding and rewinding and swirling like a nebula Ooh ooh ooh Her hand in the air straining from her shoulder a dark hollow The pit of her child arm long muscles and sinews a DaVinci bird Please! please let me let me tell the story She begs It is the first warm day The kids have shed winter with alarming speed I can see each blue vein beneath her pale skin the brave covering of her child body Tu Bishvat Even if the Messiah is on his way we must finish planting the tree (I quote From the talmud) Was Christ the Messiah—she asks We have just finished Easter The resurrection has made the headlines before Moses and The Sea of Reeds I buy discounted Easter candy for them pastel green and blue and pink M&Ms They like the bunnies on the back I am politic and patient in deference to pluralism and mixed parentage I hide in the context in historical imperative “I could be the Messiah” Isabelle jumps up to tell us Montclair, NJ, 2005
Hiding Out