Long pink dress

I dreamed I was late
to Rosh Hashanah and
the candles were being lit
without me

I could join later of course
but there was this fear
and I was running,
running, running

Three weeks since Shavuot

I had
some poems planned

Helicopters above Amsterdam

A twig cut me
about a month ago

I watched, fascinated,
as the foot skin parted
and the blood welled up

I liked the reminder
of how fragile my body is

but when a car
kills a 4-year-old—

this—
I like nothing about this