Because someone loses a limb...now. And
again now. Bombs open the landscape. There’s
shrapnel. And now.
People die in theaters and that’s the show,
all metallic applause. People die in restaurants
and that’s the meal. In schools and that’s
the lesson. Synagogues and that’s the day’s
Torah. A body lies on the asphalt and
nobody even moves it in all this heat.
Meanwhile God makes the world beautiful
like an apology—sympathy flowers, animals
quick in the background, rainbows that
might as well be balloons—while
somewhere else there’s more blood.
Like this—dropping the sun behind some
houses, everything glows. It isn’t a healed
wound. It’s not enough.
Added: Tuesday, May 14, 2019 / Used with permission.
David Ebenbach is the author of seven books of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction, including the new poetry collection Some Unimaginable Animal, which poet Rick Chess called “charming and wise,” adding, “Cling to this book. It will add life to your life.” His books have won such awards as the Drue Heinz Literature Prize, the Juniper Prize, and the Patricia Bibby Prize, among others. Born in Philadelphia, Ebenbach now lives with his family in Washington, DC, where he teaches creative writing and literature at Georgetown University. Please visit his website.