Numbers
I Drive Through
A man walks a field straightened
by young potato greens. A vagrant
wind raises dust. My windows
are closed. How does
he still walk with burning eyes?
On The Full Moon of Sivan
I have grown up
even though
that same young woman
still sometimes
takes the steering wheel
Packing Up The Sacred
We too are tasked
as was the tribe of Levi,
with dismantling the mishkan, our sanctuary
for the sake of protection, of restoration,