Deep in the Scented House Poem by Selima Hill
Deep in the Scented House
Deep in the scented house,
a herring merchant
is parting his wife's buttocks
with cold hands;
while she has buried her face
into the pillows
to watch the zebras
passing gently by:
they seem to float
like swollen butterflies,
their rhythmically-cantering bodies
striped and hot.
These are the things one hides,
thinks Feiga-Ita,
calmly and quietly trying
to go to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/13/2024 9:15:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Striped and hot! Love and dreams. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.