Into the Ether

Mitch Grabois


In the old schoolhouse in which I live

the ghosts of farm children

wake me with their rambunctiousness

Everything is spoken for almost (watercolor) by Bridget Baker
Everything is spoken for almost (watercolor) by Bridget Baker


I make guttural noises in my throat

and believe I am speaking to them through the ether

in Hebrew

and that they understand me


I ask them to let me sleep for a couple more hours

before I have to go to work in the mill


These children became adults

Many farmed, others went off to towns and cities,

became mathematicians, shoe salesmen, carpenters’ wives


Now they’re all gone

into the ether

into Madame Voslowski’s

jumbled, unformed universe




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