YOM KIPPUR - 2004

I spend this holy day

 reading the poetry of Czeslaw Milosz.

Feeling melancholy and calm,

            I fast but do not attend synagogue.

I pray for recent dead:

 Nancy, Tony, Jon, my parents.

I try not to think of business

but I do.

I try to atone for my sins,

            but question my sincerity.

I seek an elusive piety,

 but I’m overwhelmed by vivid memories

 of carnal pleasures.

I feel fortunate and fraudulent.

“You’re way ahead of the game,”

 I tell myself.

Yet, shamefully, I’m consumed by thoughts

 of back pain, hair loss, money, lust

And, always, death.