Wednesday, August 1, 2018

tri-state transfiguration

Isn’t it funny,
She said,
While we were waiting for the Amtrak at Penn Station,
That there is a Mount Tabor, New Jersey?

One day a cloud rolled over Tabor,
And hung around the mountain.
Locals made a fuss,
Because it brought down
The value of the neighborhood,
And raised property taxes.

A small girl wandered up to see it,
Taking advantage of the chaos
Among the adults
To risk the black bears who hung about the path,
In search of darkness on the summit.

She saw nothing but a fox,
Who trotted up the path in front of her,
And disappeared into the scrub.

Upon reaching the fringes of the
Super-cumulus,
The girl noticed that the
darkness had subsided,
And the cloud was light.

There were three figures,
Who spoke in only sign language,
Performing a liturgy familiar in its shape
and foreign in its gesture.

She watched the tallest
offer his words through motion,
the others responding in unison,
Their hands made music she could almost hear
Through the morning cloud.

The fog lifted slightly,
To reveal a patterned quilt of farmland,
Doused in sunlight,
Ruins of a castle,
And far away—
The sea.

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