Revisioning

In honor of Sara Epstein.

I

You smooth the surfaces of ponds
to plumb them with rubies and onyx
draped on garlands of jute

And the memories you gather
from birches and Northern maples
you place with hummingbird grace
like chessmen
on paving stones as varied
as your children.

Finessing the criticisms no one bursts out saying,
the womb finally delivers its verdicts

But the bundles you surface—
a fusillade of autopsies,
a satyr’s hippocampus—
how can we eulogize them?

II

Aplomb rarely departs from you
as when, a few steps from the sixth-century
Madaba map
I wanted to show you,

you suggested
to the waiter who offered to wipe the glass of our table
in the Old City
that the leavings of the birds might be holy shit
after which, fortified by Israeli salad
and breathless adventure,

we had to dodge the gun barrels
of an IDF squad passing by the Madaba map.
I could see why you were uncomfortable with unsheathed weapons
but I told you that safety is in the mind.

Andy Oram
August 25, 2023

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