An Institute Is Closing

By Ish Klein Ish Klein

I’m not in with this mystery. Somebody steady me.

Cool ocean breezes don’t make me laugh.

I’m in with noisy metal little nils. A million apologies.

I must have made more.

You were sensitive, you needed them

No you weren’t and you didn’t. In fact . . . oh forget it!

In the middle of the ocean reflected with the moon,

good place to show; probably no one knows you there.

Your leaving, the thrown rope up to sky, climbed up for real goodbye.

I realized my reason insufficient; you must have considered this.

How my specific lean to you smelled like an old paper cup

of funny water and you were not very thirsty.

You came unbidden initially and often. A field

and flickering wicks of foxes from here to there. You.

Holding Hell at bay. Back to ground,

I see you on the moon with your mirror

catching action on the parallax.

Some kind of wise guy.

Source: Union! (Canarium Books, 2009)

Biography

Poet and filmmaker Ish Klein grew up in Long Island and was educated at Columbia University and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Klein’s poetry collections include Moving Day (2011) and Union! (2009).

With both vulnerability and humor, Klein’s lyrical poems measure the strata of daily social and literary engagement. “Klein’s work consistently explores the conflict between authenticity and literary convention,” observes Boston . . .

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