YOUTH WILL CONSOLE ME Poem by Anat Zecharya

It will console me
sway right and left
crane its neck
lean on sharp elbows
pale round fingers
encouraging different cloud shapes
at each curve
in a tightly closed space
and steam strikes the window
and no dog barks.

Youth will console me
lowering a rib cage
over which I will soon rise
slowly.

Youth will console me
rest a hand on a head
grab my hair
flutter eyelashes
leave the grass glittering
and a lip bitten.

Youth will console me
my flesh and blood relative
I wanted to enjoy
cutting into flesh
I wanted to be both sexes
I wanted to be fought over there
Pierced to the hilt

I guided a hand to my chest
as though in thanks for applause
when that unequaled brightness
flooded over everything.
Outside everybody talks about me
and that's the way
it should be.

Only youth will console me
in broad daylight.
Resting in double beds
clutching down blankets to my heart
doesn't do it for me at all.