I slathered it all in
Yiddish: years later
finishing a
final line
(the) one book
begun: you cry
‘cyclamens’,
‘swinebread’,
‘sowbread’ at
daybreak, hands
slack snooping
Issac’s ritual
apparition
to reveal – Out
recording
mystery
for loss –
formal belly
of rhyme,
palliative and
an ending soon.