The Hair Cutter
A pitcher full of night.
There is no footfall
as loud as a footfall hushed.
Itchy words. Your lips part.
A slip of silk of silk of silk slips.
Will you wake me?
Between us
a wedge of moon bitters.
Will you wake?
At the edge of the world
the pitcher trips,
the desert hugs the slivers,
your lips close.
Seree Cohen Zohar’s writing, influenced by Australia’s landscapes, and by two decades of farming in Israel, has appeared or is forthcoming in local and international venues. Recently she collaborated with Alan Sullivan on a new versified translation of Psalms-of-King-David. A fav’rit activity is foisting flash-recipes on her unsuspecting family, the result of the consuming lure of words and the computer.
