Coarse Edges

Gili Haimovich La-La-La – Lullaby By now we were supposed to be tucked into being parents, owning our own house. Instead, our homeless auras linger on the wet streets, the only blankie we drag through the day and its tears. “Mi-san-thro-pic, mi-san-thro-pic,” I lullaby myself, cuddling you. “Misanthropic,” I smear my lullaby over a whole day, an era. Comfort  Food I practice on my kitten what I would answer If I would ever have a child and he or she would ask me: “Mum, where do your words come from”? Well, my Canadian kitten, My English words come from above, From the emptiness. From the void In my mouth. Between the upper and the lower Gums. “But where does your Hebrew come from, Mum? With me you always speak Hebrew”. Well, my child, (The child would not be Canadian nor Israeli, but just a child), My Hebrew is lying in my tummy, Like comfort food. Waiting for you. The Milk March The milk march has started. We race to reach the shelter that will protect us from our parental drowsiness, that will let us race our toddlers instead of each other. Too enthusiastic, too happy, children; it is hard to … Continue reading Coarse Edges