SPRING

by Katy Z. Allen

Paolo De Matteis "Cain and Abel" c. 1690 oil on canvas

With thoughts of Esther 9:16 and Genesis 4:10

They disposed of their enemies, killing seventy-five thousand of their foes. 
Skunk cabbage flowers are popping up in wooded wetlands.

In 2023, 2300 people in the US were killed by extreme heat climate events.
Salamanders and frogs are beginning their springtime migration on warm, rainy nights.

As of March, 48,500 men, women, and children are dead in Gaza.
Sap is rising in the sugar maples on warm sunny days.

During the 14-year-long Syrian civil war, 620,000 people were slaughtered.
Golden catkin tassels are blooming on hazelnut trees.

No one is counting how many are murdered around the world by climate change.
Crocuses are bringing color to sheltered spots of urban yards.

Your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground.
Red-wing blackbirds are trilling springtime songs from leafless treetops.

Spring and death are here.

Katy Z. Allen is a lover of the more-than-human world, rabbi of an outdoor congregation, co-founder of a Jewish climate organization, eco-chaplain, and has been writing since the age of eight, including her poetic book A Tree of Life: A Story in Word, Image, and Text from Strong Voices Publishing.

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A CANDIDATE

by Edmund Conti

Image source: DonkeyHotey

I

Among thirteen showy Mountebanks
The only intelligent thing
Was the hair of the Donald.

II

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three Muslims.

III

The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
What would Ayn Rand say?

IV

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and  a blackbird
Are one for the books but not The Book.

V

I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of my  inflections
Or the beauty of my brother’s.
Or Dad whistling
Just after Reagan.

VI

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the candidate
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
A Princeton man

VII
.
O thinking men of Ohio,
Why to do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how my resume
Puts to sleep
The women about you?

VIII

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the Bible is involved
In what I know.

IX

When the candidate flew off the radar
Only Senator McCain
Seemed to notice.

X

At the sight of motorists
Merging  after  a green light,
Even the bawds of gluttony
Would cry out sharply.

XI

She throws stones
From her glass house.
Once, a fear pierced her,
In that she mistook
The shadow of her imagination
For babies.

XII

The tide is turning.
The candidate  must be flying
But not back to Cuba.

XIII

It was evening all afternoon
It was snowing
Even in Louisiana
The candidate sat and waited
OHMMMMMM


Edmund Conti is a retired poet.  He is still looking for his golden parachute.