Detainees

Elastic laments stretched
thick as
guardians,
shelter for the bombed,

wound mess
shuffling streetside
in
Sana’a-Chicago-favelas,
subbing Sahara

where Wolf’s

voice sucked Memphis sweet
and preserved,
jarring amber molasses
hobbled,

dimples

of the smiling, of
the wounded,
unshaven grimace.

Pulled-in, parked
against the cantor’s
alone,
bifurcated lung,

the one from
the next town
over,

a red freighted rig,
fecund in yield in
issues of political economy
sub-texted

aligning margins
unpublished,

corpus
of hand-wrung epodes
by New School emigre

dropout

collectives, non-membered, no
time for the welt
of Herr
Heidegger’s being.

In summer frequenting
Avenue A Yiddish productions
of Kazan’s
Streetcar, starring

the great Tomashevsky, in
a delicatessen of
a role, as Blanche DuBois,

a soupy coffee after

by the brickled joint
ovens, donning cloaks
of sacrifice, toasted over
an iron-mesh,

corner trash can and some
Yucatan
gourmets boiling
a found IRA
potato,

stretching out their good
pitching arms,
conniving,

pebbles to a nail
of the seductive highway
Satan,

honoring the earnest,
irrefutable,

onset of Eid.