A House in Mitzpe Ramon / Emma Sham-Ba
It wasn't perfect
But it was fitting
To our dimensions.
A square of silence in front and behind
And the crater in a walking distance.
The neighbour from the second floor
Played an electric guitar.
And the neighbours from the third-floor
Shouted in Russian
And their voices penetrated through the broken shutter in the bathroom.
The kitchen light flickered
And the door hinges screeched.
The blue sofa was torn at the edges
But the walls were white
And it was possible to hang some new paintings.
Chairs and tables had to be cleared
And the fridge had to be cleaned
And we had to create for us
A corner inside the corner
And pave with measured steps the daily route to The silence and back.
We had to lay out a rug under the table and a Cloth above the table
And eat food spiced with colours.
On the walls of my room you painted the Uterus’ walls.
On the walls of your room I painted a wave.
As you entered into my room, I lit a candle.
As I entered into your room,
Darkness was riding over darkness
And we tried to close the slits
And we looked into the darkness
Without a body
And without an image of a body.
Without adjectives
And without names
And with nothing to hold on to