Wow.

[greenstorm]

I suspect you'll appreciate this one, Writer, or perhaps I'm just thinking of you sitting there with the letter opener that day.

Gifts of Love

I gave them to you
for your earlobes, your fingers. I gilded
the time on your wrist,
I hung lots of glittery things on you
so you'd sway for me in the wind, so you'd chime softly over me
to soothe my sleep.

I comforted you with apples, as it says
in the Song of Songs,
I lined your bed with them,
so we could roll smoothly on red-apple bearings.

I covered your skin with a pink chiffon,
transparent as baby lizards - the ones with
black diamond eyes on summer nights.

You helped me live for a couple of months
without needing religion
or a point of view.

You gave me a letter opener made of silver.
Real letters aren't opened that way;
they're torn open,
torn, <>torn.

Yehuda Amichai
(tr. from the Hebrew by Assia Gutmann)