After the overflow funeral
Exeunt the bodies
The ones still walking
You, in a T-shirt, inside a box
I imagine you limping up stairs of books—
Studies in This, Studies in That, Studies in the Other—
On your repaired knees in the dark
To screw in a light bulb
How many Jewish intellectuals does it take
None, it’s already screwed
Through everything your handwriting stayed graceful
Talk about still points in turning worlds
The congregation disassembles
Collectively disheveled
The faithful knock around
Illegibly on the sidewalk
Taking n-1 out for a spin
All that is solid melts into pixels