elated rapture at last mine <br />pranced into the Teacher’s Center <br />at Spinoza high school <br />sat next to Morris Klein <br />“What’ll the Almighty do next, ” I blurted out <br />referring in my mind <br />to the wonder falling from heaven. <br />‘Don’t ask, ” sighed Klein, <br />his voice thin weary <br />didn’t like the sound <br />not now <br />not the mood I wanted. <br />“Millie’s daughter, Nellie, <br />got brain cancer <br />fighting for her life <br />Millie calls <br />then cries the whole time <br />she’s on the line <br />can’t take it anymore <br />can’t take it <br />just... <br />know it’s a terrible thing <br />but can’t listen to her <br />cry <br />anymore.” <br />stared at Morris Klein <br />Millie his childhood friend <br />from the Bronx <br />52 years <br />said not a word <br />had no words to say <br />“And Nellie <br />with a five month old baby <br />darling Fannie <br />and whenever Millie visits her <br />can’t take it <br />her daughter in bed <br />no hair <br />head blown up like a balloon <br />from the chemo <br />four holes drilled through the skull <br />into the bone to get at her brain <br />to kill the cancer with chemicals.” <br />stood up <br />patted Morris on his quivering shoulder <br />then headed for Flatbush Avenue <br />snow still descending <br />on the humans <br />suddenly a shiver along my spine <br />thought I saw <br />Irving Mandelbaum <br />my teacher of Hebrew <br />at CCNY forty years ago <br />couldn’t be <br />eighty at the time dead for sure <br />but what he said in class <br />remembering his father’s death <br />in Tel Aviv <br />heard the words <br />“Everyone walked <br />the sunny streets <br />my dear father <br />rotting in the coffin.” <br />Rotting his word <br />“Only life...” <br />filtered through <br />the drifting ice-crystals <br />raced inside to Morris <br />mumbling <br />“Only life... <br />only life...” <br />lifted his head eyes red <br />a faint smile <br />sliding across wet lips <br />“I know...I know <br />but her voice...” <br />a pause <br />then silence.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-snow-of-the-year/
