« Sean Lause » An elderly Jewish man confronting Alzheimer’s I grow weary of numbers, tumbling to a shimmering dust. There is no getting back except through forgetting. I have remembered too long and too much, now I long to touch the silence between drops of rain. Sunlight dances on my eyelids, the moon escapes the net of faces, the universe folds like a sleeping flower, and all is altered by the sound of a fly spinning circles in a glass. Let the mind return to rivers seeking arterial destinations. I will hide my face in the soonest wind. Touch me, touch me, Rabbi Akiva… Show me the hiding place where no one is alone. Sean Lause has been published in The Mid-American Review, The Minnesota Review, Poetry International, Epicenter, The Blue Collar Review, The Iconoclast, Arsenic Lobster, The King’s English, Shemom, The Gihon River Review, The Mother Earth International and Frog Pond. He teaches courses in Shakespeare, Literature and the Holocaust, Composition and Speech at Rhodes State College in Lima , Ohio.