David M. Katz

Judaism, Summer, 2000

Invocation

Devoted namesake, whirling before the Lord,

Arise in my verse as the dancer you were.

Verse, a dance through shadows, was your legacy;

I want to declare permanence in this life.

David, Israel's king, hand the timbrel over.

Halevi and the Laundress

Skin like damp crystal, prismatic eyes revealed

When she drew away her hair's licentious red:

To him she seemed more than something like the sun,

Folding dried clothes, siphoning warmth through her body.

Halting here, a few miles east in Andaluz,

He could have ended his journey. His yearning

Might have bloomed inside her, the long wait for God

Expired in a gasp. It was merely a glance

Before she turned to plunge her arms elbow-deep

To twist the sheets in chilly water and hum

A song the morning birds were humming, a look

To seize in lengths of rhythm, and yet it was

The last remaining obstacle to Zion.

DAVID M. KATZ is a poet and journalist living in New York City. Poems of his have appeared in The Paris Review, The New Republic, and Southwest Review. He is at work on a group of imitations of Hebrew Golden Age poems.