Still unsettled from my last call,
when Christian babies
had been dug from graves and stashed
inside Jewish kitchens to prove guilt,
now up against energy efficient drones
all rubble down the ritual hole
beneath my feet warlocks dance
and settle to earth everywhere collecting shrouds–Oy vey iz mir! My stomach a hillock
impassable to food,
a poor golem, a civil servant
on the payroll for settling scores;
I can’t keep returning
to these settlements.
