Angels, Nomads, Wolves

by Yaacov Dovid Shulman

You were digging the night like a grave.
Lights shone like distant camps
Of angels, nomads, wolves,
The day creeped up the dingy curtain of the eastern sky,
The sun pushed up its reluctant head,
The birds circled once, twice, testing the air,
The dawn was gummy in their mouths.
The air took a deep breath.
Constantinople—there was a city for you,
There the Baal Shem Tov’s daughter wept washing clothing at the seashore
(As her father stood in his inn in blissful wonder),
The wealthy couple passed her with their wondrous message,
Sailing ships floated across the horizon.