My wife grew a beak.
I think the poetry did it
I might have exaggerated a bit
with the bird metaphor. See,
I told her, poetry influences the world.
Was she offended. She didn’t express it
with words, but a nervous twitch of the neck,
the jumpiness in her heels
gave her away. It didn’t help
that I bothered to dice vegetables and bake bread.
The moment I opened the window
my wife had her arms spread.
A Jerusalem Poem
We forgot to close the window at night.
The city broke into our home.
Cars sped across the living room.
Boys settled into couches, flashed
knife blades, and turned on the TV.
Someone sprayed slogans on the bathroom wall
“death to the prime minister”.
In the kitchen, two cops beat an Arab from Shuafat
and tossed him in the squad car. You fell
into deep sleep. And all night
I searched for refuge in you.