Nadab and Abihu

Unholy fire leapt at God’s command,

Flowed up from the brothers’ incense like twin geysers

And left their bodies burned but unmarked,

Their tunics intact,

The whites of their eyes

More piercing than their irises.

The Lord does not consume human flesh,

Ashy and accented with the taste of wandering—

That unruly savor which refused to be

Washed from the mouth of the Lord:

Not by the blood of the Nile or the firstborn souls of the Egyptians;

It would not be cut into distant recollection with the brine of the sea or the

Screams of those drowned chariot pulling beasts, eyes incandescent with fear;

The Lord

Could not scour that clinging, hungry taste from his tongue;

It scorned the sand of the desert and

Even the erasure of leprosy was overwrought by the

Transfiguration of the blemished to the pale-pure skin of those

Turned so far from their purpose that they face it once again.

What a clamorous shock

To remember oneself into being because of the

Confused cries of a covenant denied, voices

Tossed in the air and clattered back to ground,

Reminiscent of so many dropped dimes and patient operators
(Only the forgotten faithful place collect calls).