(revised “Collection Plate“)

Coarse green carpet

the stoop above East Flatbush

Brooklyn cement

and fleshy infant knees.

I was left, for an hour or so, in the landlord apartment


cleared except myself and the rooms.

Green olive branches,


lined the walls but memories change

what could have been

just leaves on the wallpaper.

I am not the incredible child

I am calculating the time

I am collecting the words

when one part

becomes a memory and

then it’s remember remember

wrinkles in the pages

forcing a meaning from remaining


Son of Yankel

Son of Jacob

Son of Israel.


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