Poem: Sabbath in the Last Temple

The house of God breathes still.
The house is a snoring old man,
surprising the neighbors
as it inhales sand.

Nearby, vendors & traffic echo angry bees.
In the empty hour of the setting sun,
hounded by duty & tradition,
one Rabbi remains.

The holy house rattles,
ready to go, keys in a pocket
shifting slow & steady,
exhaling amber light, lush
as New Year honey.

M. E. Silverman is poetry editor at Blue Lyra Review and review editor of Museum of Americana. He authored the chapbook “The Breath Before Birds Fly” (ELJ Press, 2013) and co-edited “The Bloomsbury Anthology of Contemporary Jewish American Poetry” (Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013).