The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 7 | Page 17

13

6

I pick myself

apart, line by line.

A good woman

knows how to love

by definition.

A good daughter

respects her parents

according to the Holy Book.

Good women heal

by staring out at the sea.

Good, I am not.

Hunger

God will not pass by my window

the morning I fill myself

with emptiness, refusing even a drop

of water. He will stand from afar

watching the walls crumble,

unwilling to pronounce

the horrible decree

of openness - to be ripped apart  

like a letter, or its envelope.

I will sit on the bed, unmoved

by Jerusalem, its ancientness

a horrible jab in the stomach.

Everything breaks or is breaking

or has broken, I will scream

but He will not hear me. Even God

cannot understand the hunger

I have long inflicted on myself.