An elderly Jewish man confronting
I grow weary of numbers,
tumbling to a shimmering dust.
There is no getting back
except through forgetting.
I have remembered too long
and too much, now I long
to touch the silence
between drops of rain.
Sunlight dances on my eyelids,
the moon escapes the net of faces,
the universe folds
like a sleeping flower,
and all is altered
by the sound of a fly
spinning circles in a glass.
Let the mind return
seeking arterial destinations.
I will hide my face
in the soonest wind.
Touch me, touch me,
Show me the hiding place
where no one is alone.
Sean Lause has been published in The
Mid-American Review, The Minnesota Review,
Poetry International, Epicenter, The Blue
Collar Review, The Iconoclast, Arsenic
Lobster, The King’s English, Shemom, The
Gihon River Review, The Mother Earth
International and Frog Pond. He teaches
courses in Shakespeare, Literature and the
Holocaust, Composition and Speech at Rhodes
State College in Lima , Ohio.