The dulled bronze domes of The Church of the Orthodox
Where at any moment the bells would begin to chime
&
in the streets crisscrossing the city
From the old section to the sea
The tanks
&
personnel trucks began moving quietly
Into position in their orderly
&
routine way
&
as the bells began sounding from their tower
They were answered by the echoing concussion of mortars
As the daily shelling of the hills began
&
she was slicing small pieces of bread the size of coins
To fry in goat butter
&
chives she was naked
Kneeling on one of the worn rugs thrown at angles across
The scarred floor she glanced up at him
&
smiled
Nodding for no reason in particular
&
in spite of
The fact the one phrase he'd taught her perfectly
Began with the word for
free
though it ended
With
nothing
Michael Goodman
PISGAH
Who would have thought
the days would gather like seawater,
evaporating, yielding their salt,
or that the heart,
which was a mighty sparrow,
would bend to its labor?
But what a strange city the future is .
I saw it one evening with my brother in 1967.
We'd been out on the tide flats
digging lugworms, turning over spadefuls
of cold sludge, picking out rocks,
(for Rob)
