—this week’s portion of the Torah
brings the Ten Commandments
and Paxlovid, three pills twice a day,
brings the body aching like
a mountain cracked in two, brings
fever like the thickness of a cloud,
God’s voice in the trembling of night,
God’s voice in the cough that comes
at four a.m., brings the covenant
of bed to bathroom and the walk
to bed again, hands lifted to
an air that’s dense with flies, the buzzing
in the ears, brings the lightning jolts
across my limbs, brings the lungs
thick with breathing and the lack,
God’s voice between the breaths,
brings the pillow’s lump, brings
the sweating in the sheets,
brings the carved line of light
beneath the door, brings the waking
sounds in other rooms, brings a new
glass of water, brings ibuprofen
like smooth pebbles in a mouth,
brings lozenges, brings broth bitter
as metal, like the side of a knife
laid flat against the tongue, brings
skin that burns then cools too
suddenly like the retreat of God’s voice,
like the pulling back of God—

 

 

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Jehanne Dubrow is the author of three books of nonfiction, ten poetry collections, and a craft book. Her book-length essay Frivolity: A Defense is forthcoming from Columbia. Her writing has appeared in New England Review, Southern Review, and Ploughshares.

 

 

 

Photo by Jacinta Christos on Unsplash