An afternoon sleep carries us
aboard the barge, children fleeing
from the giants of heat and boredom
to a blue shore upon whose bank
walk the dead. Their faces creeping close like a cat
inquire what we have left behind
and whether we’ve already been betrayed.
Gagged with longing we grow bold
and attempt to grab their hand, have them lean into us
to see how high our love in the hollows of their vanished forms.
They slink away, sly as the shadow taken for water in the distance,
and blow into dust in the face of our wanting
A wave hurls us into waking, pale and poor
we know that someone has fed us from his palm,
not having seen his face, not having sated our hunger.
Translated by: Amalia Ziv