David Keplinger Excerpt

WAKING ON THE PRIBOR TRAIN, NEAR FREUD’S BIRTHPLACE

I hear before I see. 
Halfway through the rain-wet
Fields of Pribor in winter,
Some distant, barking dogs
Suggest the town. 
I have heard tell
Of its shops with names
Predating the war
When this was a Jewish city.  
I have found it all this way
Like a cup or a pocketknife
Or a hat from childhood
I thought was lost. 
Illumined by the station lights
The tiny veins
Flicker behind my eyes,
And I open my eyes:
It’s like floating back into the world
After prayer.  The moon
Is out.  The dogs are slick
And fluid in their tight, black fur.

From: The Clearing, New Issues Poetry and Prose, 2005.