Primeval Shabbat

by Marc Mangel

the gales slowly mutated into a

bare rustle

so slight that the palms

didn’t feel

pain

 

the stars decided to wane so

slowly

ever changing

 

water fierce and smashing

making mountains

to molehills and

boulders to sand

merely meandered

peaceably

barely to twist a twig

 

the earth still groaning

from lands vomited out

and from crack

unmended

itselft stopped

heaving

 

the primieval shabbat

 

November 1972