Tohu, Tikkun

let me destroy what was ours: here’s another            and reclaimed, still burning. still burning you
ram—a  highway—the   tel   aviv   beach.   the            tell    me   here – and   press   the   tooth   into
prostitute,    her     name    sawdust   in   your             my palm. we have not yet learned to turn off
incisors. all those sleepless nights spent with             our    minds    but    our    bodies    won’t   stop
phasmids  on  your  lips.  spindle legs tensed,            shaking.   phasmids on the eyeball of the sun.
grasping.  before  god,  you  had the universe.            this  is  how  we  fix ourselves: another ram—
after, you  have nothing but the gloating peal             another  flame—another knife.  this  time, no
of  your  own  lungs. the body sold downriver             voice calling don’t from above.

1 Comment

  1. wow this is awesome. we just made an art poetry book,
    called “The Palace of Healing”
    would be great to connect with you Michal about your

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