instead of scripture,
i read her body
as my midrash

the multiverse
in the margins
of the page
forget me
as i trace with my fingers
the edge of a temple

(this is not what the ancestors
had in mind)

i read my body
as my midrash

instead of scroll,
i unfurl myself
outward
to the world

i slip my hands down first
to where it is wet
like the sea

a midrash of the body,
like an autopsy,
never begins with anything
but intuition

nor does a first kiss
occur upon lips

it is a being drawn to
a wound
a single goosebump

oh rebs //
oh fathers //
oh long bearded
men whose eyes widen
when i walk by //

i am coming up on the first light
on empty
i am coming up
between her thighs

never were you
as religious as i am now,
lips damp, cooing.

i am a dirty water ganev
one of the last
words i remember
in Yiddish

i put the word
in my back pocket
which is my prayer book
fraying at the seams

i am stealing midrash
as my own
and painting it in midnight

i am a shvartze
doubling as a shadow cast

tracing the door
to my house

in the cool, brief,
wind
with a blindfold
and a kiss.