Thursday, November 23, 2017

Reincarnation Memories Of A Jew

A work in progress, I don't quite know where I'm going to end this poem or how to bring out the rhythms that are so insistently asserting themselves

Reincarnation Memories Of A Jew

I had a job
prying gold teeth from corpses
I had a job
digging graves for thousands
I had a job cleaning shit from train cars
then one day they shot me
in the back of the head.
At least I had a job
until I was dead.
Now I'm with the living
don't know how it happened
these jobs vague memories
stuck in my DNA.
I have a job cleaning bathrooms
that aren't even dirty
I have a job planting flowers
I must have been promoted.
Life is fleeting
so is death
but one job is forever,
making a garden for the soul
raising the fruit of memories
images odors, skills
of many lives and deaths: how is it
that I recall voices I've never  heard
places I've never been?
Perhaps I'll live again then move on to the next one
I have a job.  If I'm righteous
some day my job will be to care for memories
that tell an epic story
like the Book Of Judgment 
about which the Rabbis sing.

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