| Poem
for a daughter who is already born
On the day you were born the joyworkers warmed
their hands at the fire that was lit
by the match of your life.
Night after night I hypnotize myself with the voice of your breath
as if it were a lighthouse flashing for a sailor almost guzzled
by the sea’s teeth.
-from the
collection "Wheat", by
Ronny Someck
|