The Trickster
this unknown man
cawing cunningly
a promised well
of amorous dreams
under his wings
broken vows
fist of words
snatching
the beacon of life
I place my ear against
the pulsing Eden
and wonder into
a woman’s worth
my lips taste
sour
and eyes
mistrust forever
like a fetus
resolved to survive
Awaiting Deliverance
shroud
is her silk gown
she lies
in a feast
of self sacrifice
paints herself
invisible
karmic ghosts
engulf her whitish halo
sidle her passage
she is small
with Eve
in the vast field
of sheer white
jalabeahs
A Savior
after the chuppa
eighteen white pigeons
like roaring clouds
walk the empty wooden cage
they are free now
soaking the nostalgic
the beauty of climbing red roses
the embroidered sheets
rambling along a cloth line
soon an echo of fallen limbs
Groom, with swift bow,
in hands of porcelain tea cups
the straw basket of wine and flowers
conceal the true intent of matrimony
it is not about love
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
under the sweet lemon tree
a gurgling blue mosaic fount
drip splash drip
twilight swirls through
the open window onto
the soft silk covers
shivers to the sound
of clay drums and limbs
entwined in scent
of hair and skin
beads of moisture
relive the ultimate
truth in stormy breaths
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
Casting Shadows
this windowless room
of clay and mud, darkens
searing eye with knowledge
of imminent death
distant star bleed pearls
swell the faith of betrayal
black is the color of dreams
spilled over the edge of night
quiet and aloof the surface
like a fog
through the silent alleys
of the mellah onto bruised limbs
growing wings
The Wait
what is to become of me
my story
the one to inscribe in
the Book of Life
in dreams
love is a white bird
soaked in nectar of honeycomb
gliding over emerald sea
to reach the timeless vast
moonlight glow
desire
whiffs like a perfume
among the rattling leaves
of the Apple Tree
but oh
Mother
slaps her side
with a gesture of despair
love is an empty wait
I bite my lips
Upon Reflection
look at her, a flow of purity born
into a decay culture of obedience
her seed, solid and firm to the eye,
etched a promise, know only love,
in infinite colors and endless patterns.
with a sustained gaze and a deep frown,
she gasps at her reflection; a thousand
patches of melting wax dripping from Eden
onto her working hands, feet, womb.
Her limbs, florets of slender vines,
decorate the wedding canopy. In this
moment of strength, she unfolds the
intent of the kettuba, the spiritual union
of Adam and Eve. Love, it is not love.
Last Quick Glance
rhythms
of wide winding stairways
flow the white ash walls
giving place
a wilting heat of mid-summer
fiddle sound
chorus rooftops
loud mazal tov
fills the streets of the mellah
the bride
with henna in her hands and feet
passes through the crowd
throning the streets
dressed in silk
rose petals at her feet
she lifts her veil
but doesn’t smile
Happily Ever After
the ghost of David
lay in a pile of books
melting my hands
the Shepard boy cries;
this ketubba is a sign
of weakness to women
amidst the blistering desert
she carries babies
in a dust sling barefoot
till Earth crusts her soul
vows inscribed
in ancient papyrus
release the souls
hidden beneath
black chadors
Lost in ‘Luxury’
shatters
of windows
bang open
she lies
in surrender
legs wide open
sour
and so recalls
the living waters
three short breaths
kosher, kosher, kosher. . . to love. . .
woman valor
Mother says,
love is only in fairy tales
here is a towel
dry your dreams
Closed Deal
weakened wicks
glare a pale wash
across the hanging ketubba
no echo
of sugar cubes and mint
stirred in gold trimmed cups
midnight
she lies abed in petals
like an overgrown fetus
his forced touch
stings
like a rush of poison
oh tears
rolling like amber
rubbing sweat
off her skin
cut the stained fabric
pulsing through generations
open the door
and shout
here is your bloody stain
Mother!
In Fragments
she fears
the streets with iron doors
high forbidding walls
barred windows
unseen words
the occasional ululation
twists the velvet pillows
and satin gown
into a grip of iron
the light of love winks
like as a distant star
the women of the mellah
in gorgeous caftans
drums and tambourines
lead the bride
to a terrace draped with magnolias
their judging glance
and gossiping tongue
bitter the sweet wine of Zion
hardens the Glass of Jerusalem
MOTHER!
Good Bye
new bride
awakens
to a new cloudy day
sits by a small
pot of glowing
charcoal
dough to knead
floors to sweep
fabric to sew
awaits
no
Mother
Sister
Friend
realm
of new identity
must feel
with hands
the steeped
ancient elements
of tradition
Another Floor, Another Life
she awaits
secluded
a pale light
on stone-worn stair
outside
age-old pomegranate tree
ripened fruit
rises the sweetness
of hopeful love
sing lullabies
melting wax
engulfs
almond eyes
burn
the clay soil
of hidden secrets
