Robert Manaster

Post Yom Kippur

After mercy-mulling minutes, battered
light, evening in earnest decline, tell me
the telltale saint of sound is pulled into
God's unguarded garden through the mellow
words of my heart, then woo me like wild grapes;
tell what pulls a pulley, what wills wonder,
what winds work me like fingers unwinding
string as tight as wet sand; yes, spell it out,
blow away stringless kites — it's been a long
day coming here like sails without a boat.

Robert Manaster's (he/him/his) poetry has appeared in numerous journals including Birmingham Poetry Review, Image, Maine Review, Into the Void, and Spillway. His co-translation of Ronny Someck's The Milk Underground was awarded the Cliff Becker Book Prize in Translation. He's also published poetry book reviews in such publications as Rattle, Colorado Review, and Massachusetts Review. http://robertmanaster.net