Inside the yeshiva he’s busy naming things
while I, like Eve, watch the smallest movements
in the world — grass bending as if it aches,
a bird that carries lust in its beak.
Through the window I’ve seen him bent over
the text, saliva flying from his mouth
as he reads and...
January 16, 2014 | 2:11 pm
Two eyes, one nose, one mouth, and what could be
more perfect? Maybe the small fraction of
a smile she aims at his glance secretly
across the table, kabbalistic love
that no one else... read full article