after Yehuda Amichai
After Amichai read, slips of gold paper
marking his poems
flew out from the book, rose
as messages to HaMakom
in the balance
of paper and air.
After Amichai read, sparks
flew out from the book
touch us touch us
and the souls of the letters
hovered.
Between earth and sky
rose the words
beloved dead
and they guttered around his feet.
And so gold
fluttering
settled
marking the place he would turn toward,
malachi’s golden feathers,
so much wrestling,
one way of being
held.
From:
