The beam splitter spits my image
Back at me and sends my other
Half sputtering into the universe.
At night, I dream about my mother,
About a planet with purple folds of light
Looping through the sky. Sometimes I learn
About exotic birds, and sometimes about
Exotic particles, and they flame and burn.
At night in Babylon, the blackness
Is so thick, it presses down
The gables. From here, we can see
The river, from our tumble-down.
You know, if you’re not afraid
To drown, you can swim and reach
The city whose shops blaze at night
And scholars stand beneath a beech.
Yaacov David Shulman