ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Yermiyahu Ahron Taub is a poet, writer, and translator of Yiddish literature. He is the author of two books of fiction and six volumes of poetry. His recent translations from Yiddish include Blessed Hands: Stories by Frume Halpern (2023). You can visit his website at https://yataubdotnet.wordpress.com.

Night of Seroconversion and Aftermath

I.

Was it good that night 

did you meet him 

in a bar 

or on the street 

or in the bathhouse 

or along the piers 

did the stars sparkle reassure prod 

against an aghast blue-black sky 

were there shadows as witness 

flitting in and out of your lines of sight 

did his return gaze lure you 

in spurts of beckoning 

or in a single line of insistence 

was your heart pounding in anxiety and thrill or

did you know that this was your destiny 

that this needed to happen 

did you go into the brambles 

or onto a rooftop 

or into an alley

or between two diner trash bins 

or a hotel room 

or an apartment tidy but impervious 

with two nightlights moaning 

back at you in the gray-gold gloom 

did you at first sink to your knees in delight 

to ready him 

to ready you 

to ready the night itself 

or did you bend over right away 

the idea of protection flitting 

then vanishing out of reach gone

banished by your hunger or his impatience or

did you think to inquire about his status 

or was that not even an option in the urgency of desire 

was his entry gentle but insistent 

or indifferent determined or 

was it glorious or ordinary and adequate 

did you assemble a rhythm in unison 

were your bodies rowing 

climbing through and towards the eye of fire 

did he and you last long 

or was it over all too soon 

crumbs of carnality 

post-deluge puddles evanescent below the desert sun 

or the city moon 

did he say beforehand 

that he was going to pull out 

or was that never mentioned whispered 

did he kiss embrace you goodbye 

or nod so that only his teeth sparkled at you 

did his face appear before you when 

your hands grazed mine in the “cinema” 

in the so many nights later that followed 

when our lips strained 

and our torsos trembled 

in the face of such exhilaration 

until they (sort of) went their separate ways 

would you have stayed with me

 (longer) 

if I had asked these questions

if I had been able to formulate them 

without audacity

with care 

if I had bent over in abandon

II.

Do you think you can ask such questions 

do you think you have a right to know 

what right 

what business is it of yours 

you who have never surrendered to glory not really

never abandoned yourself to it 

do you think you’ve ever escaped 

the “puritanism” of your upbringing 

have you ever turned your back on the rules 

do you understand the necessity of risk 

the thrill the urgency of placing yourself in the path of peril 

that through danger comes the glimpsing of 

the cleaving to 

the Divine 

does it matter where that coming together happened 

is this a play or a novel with a declared setting 

or is only the night unmoored writ large the setting 

would it please you 

if I told you I feared the arrival of the police 

do your questions ever escape the taint of voyeurism 

do they move you into participant 

do you relish the role of judge 

black robes swishing beneath fluorescent light

or schoolmaster tsk-tsk-ing at me 

do you think that if he had entered in latex 

then my love of self would be deep “authentic” true 

healthy 

if he had known me beforehand

if we had initially chit-chatted about off-Broadway offerings in a café 

would I have been less hungry 

less condemnable 

more worthy of 

do you think your body is more sacred 

do you think you are cleaner than me 

how could there be room for me and my 

what with that stick stuck up your 

do you think that that night is worthy of this scrutiny 

when all that matters is the drive toward eros toward joy 

why should Thanatos have the upper hand 

is there safety in shelter in the circumspect avoidance of life 

when you were with me 

what were you protecting yourself from 

did you ever see me 

was I ever more than a vessel of restraint trashed 

of acumen abandoned 

when we were together 

did you ever stop summoning him 

your imagined monster of carelessness 

stud of blue-black night 

did you ever let us breathe into black dahlias

did you ever stop condemning me 

for refusing to discard that night 

for refusing for stepping away 

from the cold handcuffs 

the implacability 

of your court sentencing