The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                          June-2011                                                        Number-1




by  Sam Eisenstein
He remembered
the screech of tires
a vein pulsing in his head
Comforting sound
of many rubber wheels
the smell of exhaust
An immense expanse
of jeweled crystal
he shared with ghosts
His wife, the children
parents herding sheep
tall buildings collapsing
Foul tastes
far back in the throat
a cough not completed
Inner dialogue
with world figures 
Cosmic peace
All languages his
and instant transport
to distant destinations
From deep underwater
the crystal began ascent
annoying his inner ear
Then: frighting
the hosts of figures
who fled in a crowd of bubbles
The container began to melt
rather than shatter 
yet left shards
Embedded in skin, groin
body's outlying parts
unused to sensation 
He groaned musically
mimicking sheep bleating
in a lost meadow
He saw faces above him
eager for language
a telling pointed finger
They watched his eyes
for signs of recognition
body's coherent movement 
As the crystal womb melted
the mouth of his wife
swam into his sight
Opened to her smile
of familiar wrinkles
appealing irregularities
His heart leaped
to meet her lips
and form his own
She said then clearly
I'm your daughter
all that's left
With that he knew
he had traveled
with light speed
Over years in which
his wife had stumbled
and fatally fallen
He now bitter
fully aware
knew this awakening
Came too late
far from any home
he could know
He willed reentry
to a fully reconstituted
many-faceted crystal
Into which he fled
with the relief
of finality