A Sunday Poem: “The Key”


When I was three,

our neighbour Sarah

asked my friend Amos and me

to help her find the key

she’d lost in the yard.


A quarter was promised to the finder.


Amos went to the rear.

I saw him by the tin garbage cans

where we sword-played

the other day.


I remained in the front,

searching by the fence,

then along the path.


There it was, right in front of me:

shiny brass,



Sarah kept her word,

awarded me a quarter.


But gave two quarters

to Amos.


“Because this is Amos,” she said,

looking me in the eye.


My first encounter

with Management.



(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)

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