Marcela Sulak
On the other hand, every tree and reed and bird I see this morning is pressing

Perhaps, Drimia Maritima, the self as a subject
of investigation has run its course, as has the subject
of Jezabel, La Llorona (aka Dona Marina,
aka La Malinche), Catherines, the Great
and de Medici, as well as Queen Puabi,
Lola Ridge, and Beatrice, as avenues of inquiry
into the self. On the other hand, every tree and reed
and bird I see this morning is pressing
itself against the river banks to get its picture taken
on the Yarkon's glassy surface. 

And for every white dove with a brown tail, 
there is a black dove with a white, and 
for every white duck with black banded wings
there is a black dove with white wings.
And on the river the Egyptian ducks 
have yielded to the cranes, and the shel dag
have given their name to a military operation,
but I still love to watch them rise above
the water's surface, hover, then dive.

And the world is creaking into November,
the most beautiful month of all, with the acorn caps
ample and empty, the pomegranate seeds
entering the house of red, the anona ripe as a pricked heart,
the pumpkins, belly up and at rest in the fields,
their withered vines releasing,
and the kale-for I am coming from the garden-

the kale as lacy and eager to please
as a woman who doesn't understand
how beautiful she is. And on the bench the old man
I greet every morning, and the old woman
with the dyed black hair and the red lipstick
in a color I could never manage to pull off. 
I study her all the time, because I know,
dear Drimia Maritima, one day soon it will be me.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #7: Summer 2019, Volume 4 Number 1