Purimspiel Poem by gershon hepner

Your touch that I find ever-present
I want, as I have since I first
met you, and found you ever-pleasant,
spontaneous, sparkling, unrehearsed.
You’ve been my touchstone ever since,
and though I’ve felt your absent touch
when separated like the prince
from Sleeping Beauty, I feel much
more moved when you are with me than
when you are absent, and I feel
your presence, for this Caliban
Miranda in a Purimspiel
who knows that though I always test her
tempestuously, she’s prospers more
not as a touching queen like Esther,
but commoner whom I adore.

Inspired by the lyrics of a song by Marianne Faithfull, “The Absent Touch”:

The cat sleeps in the red chair
My lover combs her jet black hair
There's mystery in a way of walking
It's witching hour no need to talk

And there are diamonds in our bed
I put your hands about my head
My lover worships the sun
Her body is the Amazon

My lover is of royal birth
My lover smells of the good earth

I give my love my life to wear
I taste my life in that black hair
At three o'clock it's time to say
Rest you love till break of day
Rest you love till break of day

Though I won't phone nor will I write
I wish you happiness tonight
I thank you for this witching hour
I give you love, I give you power

I run my fingers through your soul
I know my love you make me whole
Forgive me if I say too much
I am in love with absent touch


5/4/09