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