Tarnished Things

The deserts of Israel rage across my skin

sing the Song of Solomon across their winds

pray for me for my prayers go unmade

my soul is borne of tarnished things.

Let a Woman Learn Quietly

Her lips were tied with

tradition

 

she couldn’t loosen the cords

 

before the mirror

she tried to undo

that delicate web

 

of dreams and fears

family and commandments—

 

the ghosts of memory

snapping, weaving—

mute.