she lies on
a single bed.
Not a waking ray
or a soothing song
is permitted.
She smiles
throwing her bony arms
to hold me close.
I caress
her hands and cheeks
with hope.
But the letters
on her chart
brandish thorns.
for her
the shechinah
is visible,
like descending pollen
in the wilderness.
(c)Michal Mahgerefteh 2009
from In My Bustan
Poetica Publishing Company
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