Eucharist Stone

 

It's covered with flour

Sticky in a nursery school way

A miniature loaf gone wrong

A eucharist to break the teeth

I've closed my eyes

Put my tongue out

And waited patiently for miracles

 

Last Visit to the East Coast

Up into the air

in airplane as fragile as egg shell

I nibble broccoli moss food and hold Dick's hand

In New York driven by a lost Russian emigre cabby

to my daughter Karin and her husband, Ari

little birds

she with gold hair like feathers

crescent hat on her head and he with a keepah

They go to pray poems

Snow outside, the East River, the sun melting

sharp wind blowing

 

Dick and I go to Carnegie Hall to see my eldest son

Daniel and his Korean wife, Wonju, perform with the symphony

In the last row of the highest balcony

we sleep through Isaac Stern

and I hold Dick's hand again

life-line to life

I know this might be my last trip

Doctors tell me it will be

We meet at the stage door

It's the final concert on the tour

Daniel and Wonju sip champagne

both wear black

she carries her violin

he, his heavy cello

With clasped hands

Dick and I follow through the New York Streets

while dust and cars stream past in banners