for Sara Daskal

Beautiful Lillian
her smile of samovar
lips still curl from the days when
her kisses at sunrise
would sting the postman
out of his sleep
his deliveries gratefully
late those mornings
Her own sleep aborted
by dream loops
of Talmud in boombox
Slowed but still liquid
her days adrift on an ocean of
sandwich bags, borscht
and used honeymoons

They will be granted three miracles
by The Power That Be so likely
to drop the contract in the sea
but they’ll attend to
bigger and butter things, oh
the sweetness
to lick a drop just
one drop of
just one more drop
while Treblinka squats on the ashes
of her loved ones
she awaits the warrior David
to finally defend the grace
of her intelligence
But Sid will do

They will dine again this evening
then fuck the Evil Eye
and flaunt their pleasure

they will forget
they will remember
they will forget
in a casserole of wheezes
and a sore pecker
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Beautiful Lillian
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