Never knew I’d pass as a ‘frumka' - Michelin
Man I thought, or from the Harry-Potter clan
- yet here am I - now wearing several layers
of clothing - two headscarves, leaving home
at dawn with hair wet - blow-drier kaput -
Two pairs of leggings, one pair of socks to
keep feet warm, fleecy scarf around me to
keep insides from freezing, sheer sleeve-
less black chiffon top to hide floral blouse
made by mama - & which makes Scorpio
Mad with its formless silhouette - & then,
a fleecy sleeveless jacket - now the coup
de grace; polar-fleece black long-sleeve
jacket desired by my cold-blooded inner
crocodile to survive a cold drive to the
Office as our sedate estate-car’s air-con
remains set to cold - my beloved Scorpio
has inner phoenix-fires to keep him warm -
so I’m pious & modest while dreaming of
being as aloof as a princess on a glass
Mountain; my version of the burqa - with
veiling mask, makes me a frumka and a
member of the Haredi burqa sect – yet I
prefer a vision of being a fairytale glass-
mountain princess…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem