Before I could subscribe his ears to the terracotta
soothings of past times, I tried to cheer
his decomposed spirits, played around with a bronze coin
saved in my pocket and etched with an etrog,
a magic trick toss of heads lost or tails, then so amazed my fetching
one from his nose, ears, beneath his feet
from whereupon he sagged and fell to the ground,
thumping his chest like a drum kettle,
launched into the story of a certain striated rock
with whom he’d shared many affections,
buried beneath her dark underside, waiting
for the call throughout the generations, until
it had become my turn to separate the poor golem
from his dearly beloved, of which he could do nothing about.