Rabbi Rachel Is Dead
by Maureen Sherbondy
I see rabies not rabbis, wonder
at perception of eyes and that thought
machine inside, its metal gears spinning
a shuffled deck of Queens and Kings,
flashing red and burning away.
Maybe because earlier this day
I read on social media a rabbi
not talked to in ten years went
poof. Gone by early morning.
They are all on the same continuum,
how babies find a circle of light
at five a.m., say I am here,
O, King of Israel,
after all maternal waves fade.
Was it the rabbi’s death or maybe
a link between religion and disease,
how once bitten by Hebrew psalms
at three, Torah unfurled inside me.
When I raise my eyes from the screen
I mouth Rabbi Rachel, rabies,
watch bats dart backwards,
black letters, trope, and bite marks
floating like an ark across a black sea.
Note: Trope refers to how Hebrew words are sung; cantation.
Maureen Sherbondy's forthcoming book is The Body Remembers. Her work has appeared in European Judaism, Calyx, Southern Humanities Review, and other journals. Maureen lives in Durham, NC.
