Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Lynne Bronstein

I don’t know why
The Moloch Hamoves
The Angel of Death
Tries to be
My special friend.
He hovered over me
The morning I walked down
A Venice street
And a hooded figure
Knocked me to the ground
And stole my purse.
And he was there
When I felt pain
Rippling down my back
And shaking spasms made me think
My end was near
Until the doctor’s x-rays proved
It was just muscle strain.
He hangs inches over me
During so many important
Maneuvers in my life.
Wakes me in the
Middle of the night.
Sits on my shoulders
As I enter a nightclub
And grabs the center
Of my being
On a water slide
At an amusement park.
Wherever joy is
He wags a finger
Makes me repent
Tricks me and makes me
Run for cover.
I hate him but
I’ve been prone to hide
From the world as soon
As I see him coming.
So lately
I’ve been welcoming
An angelic army
That stands behind me
To help me against him.
An angel who puts
His arm around me
And makes me laugh
And another, dressed
As Wonder Woman,
Who reminds me how to 
Make a fist
And one who know
From good authority
That Moloch Hamoves
Is much too ahead of schedule
And I can resist him---
It’s not time yet.
When next I see him
These practical angels
Will flank me
And I will say:
Go back and wait
Another forty years at least!
You fool me with false signs
And interfere with love.
I know you visit others
And they, wanting to live more,
Defy you and ignore you
Until you leave them.
You think I’m not that hard
But I’ll surprise you.
I may be a Capricorn
Steeped in the saturnine
And a superstitious Jew
And of course, a woman
With a woman’s heritage of fear
But you don’t have the warrant.
My name’s not on your list now.
Take your clammy hand
Off my heart
And get
The hell
Out of here!

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