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.
