At first light, he packed for three days’ travel
to Moriah. Over all that distance,
clambering, son trussed, altar ablaze, nothing unraveled.

Did faith or transcendent, wraith-like obedience
keep him going? Once, when I was 8—unmindful
of danger, time, space—dense,

wavy, rippling , smoke-smudged haze
rises from the trash can. Glazed,
I draw closer, warmer. Just keep goin’:

popsicle stick, twigs, newspaper, leaves, all thrown in.
Nothing inside warns me. Trancelike silence.
Clamoring, she ran out, “I’ll tell your parents.”

I feel my heart race,
heat rising, burning behind my face.

Alan Toltzis is a strategic marketing consultant from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. He has published in “Focus Midwest” and has recently had poems accepted for publication in the “Burningword Literary Journal” and “Soul-Lit.”