Count on
January 10, 2021
What I can
count on, when
democracy might be dying
at the hands of white men
and women waving
Confederate flags, wearing
Camp Auschwitz shirts,
brandishing zip ties:
the havdalah candle's
sizzle, plunged
into wine; the scent
of shankbones, simmering;
the song of Torah
where every sentence
culminates, with no
uncertainties;
the winter sun
lingering
just a little longer,
promising better days.