End of December and the green of King Saul Avenue copies itself from leaves, the fire remains in red and the yellow is yellow. Tonight during intervals of sudden rain she talks of Martin Buber. Such a Hidden Light from traffic signals and car beams. And in my body her words suspended like electric wires, under which the memory of her swirls, a cropduster's acrobatics.
Copyright © 2002 by Ronny Someck. Translated from the Hebrew by Moshe Dor and Barbara Goldberg. Reprinted by permission of the University of Wisconsin Press and the Dryad Press. All rights reserved.