Ronny Someck


The Fire Stays In Red

End of December and the green of King Saul Avenue
copies itself from leaves, the fire
remains in red and the yellow is yellow. Tonight
during intervals of sudden rain she talks
of Martin Buber. Such a Hidden Light from traffic signals
and car beams. And in my body her words suspended
like electric wires, under which the memory of her
swirls, a cropduster's acrobatics.

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