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The People of Caphtor |
The entire people saw the thunder, the flames,
and the smoking mountain and they said to Moses,
you speak to us and we shall hear; let God not speak to us lest we die.
-- Exodus 20:15
I say to the Rabbi that these plagues which hit Egypt
were really due to a volcano. He’s looking at me
with his nice tie and beard like I’m a Philistine.
We are in the temple and there is my aunt’s seat
the one she sat in for sixty-two years.
Everyone has their own place. It's like
the dead are still here, still with the living.
He is on the bimah with the Bible
talking about the blood, the frogs, the lice, the beasts, the epidemics,
boils, hail, locust, darkness, first born.
It reminds me of a book about the ancient island of Caphtor.
The men wore short kilts, showed off their penises with big codpieces,
had nice pottery, and used to sail to nearby Egypt
but then the volcano exploded
and that’s when all the bad things started happening, you know,
the blood, the frogs, the lice, the beasts, the epidemics,
boils, hail, locust, darkness, first born.
The Bible says the hail was laced with fire and thunder,
the air was dark for three days, brother could not see brother.
It says these plagues prove the existence of God.
Ko omar adonai the Lord said bzot teyda ki
through this shall you know ani adonai that I am God
The book said it was sulfuric ash pouring down
from the sky as acid rain, like smoke on the dying,
tempering cat against serpent, a glass
clear river becoming polluted murk.
The eruption was thirty times larger than Mt St Helens.
Forty-two billion tons of rock were pulverized into dust
to be sucked in by the living, coughed up by the dead
ki shodeyd adonai et p’leeshtim as the Philistines,
remnants of the isle of Caphtor, were destroyed by the Lord.
(stanza break)
I’m explaining what he just read
and the Rabbi’s looking at me like I’m a Philistine
which just means sea people you know.
But what I really want to do is ask him why
he threw all that dirt on my aunt’s grave.
When I walked into the temple there was her seat
the one she had sat in for sixty-two years.
Everyone has her own place. It's like
the dead are still here, still with the living
but I’m realizing if that mountain hadn’t blown its top
then we wouldn’t be worshipping volcanoes
and the Rabbi would be standing there
not with a yalmulke on but in a short skirt
with his you know what hanging out --
not an image I wanted to dwell on
so I turn towards my aunt’s seat and wave.
I tell her I miss her.
I think she heard me.
(alternative ending)
I’m explaining what he just read
and the Rabbi’s looking at me like I’m a Philistine,
which just means “sea people” you know
and what I really want to say is
they called it blood as it hit all the rivers and the streams
killing fishes, filling dishes and stone bowls so that teams
of green frogs started croaking in the muck and the goo
and they jumped, head and rump for the land, wouldn’t you?
Dicey lice, thought it nice, as they wriggled in the crust
making glue, in the stew, as they burrowed in the dust.
Hairy beasts, on the hoof, got alarmed, made a dash
for the trees, in the breeze, going wild, with a rash.
Rash! It’s an epidemic and I think systemic!
Nothing’s antiseptic! Quick go get my tunic!
This is much too toxic, and so very cosmic!
And big boils, from the ash then broke out upon their skin
and they itched, in the ditch, and yelled out we can’t win!
Til the hail, big as rails, from the sky fell so hard.
Lightning hits! Thunder blitz! Killing amaranth in the yard
and the locust, hocus pocus, ate as fast as bugs could chew
What a feast! Say the least! No one else knew what to do!
Then the darkness from the ash cloud came and took away their sight
Where’s my bro? Where’s my toe? It’s been three days without light!
And my firstborn isn’t coping with the wear upon his bod,
So he died! And I cried “Why’s this happening?”
And I’m realizing that if that volcano hadn’t exploded
then the Rabbi would be standing there
not with a yalmulke on but in a short skirt with his
you know what hanging out,
So he died! And I cried ‘Why’s this happening?’
Must be God!
copyright 2009
Thea
Iberall |
