my heart sounds out—
that of a wounded gull
I won’t remain parched
My lips will not crack
My skin shall not peel
/aloe vera/
I AM NOT WHAT I SEEM
I am tough like Sabra
a sticky sugar surpise
like the cactus candy-treat of my half-forgotten cousins
* * *
the age old menage a tois
as horrible as
the story is holy
* * *
three bound in misery
* * *
laban sits twiddling his thumbs
wearing a winking smirk
_______________
the whole wide world
played The Laban
_______________
GO
mother nations if you desire so much—
I’ll sit right here
(enduring)
I am the Fruit of Eve
I am the Sabra
* * *
two brunette sisters seated side-by-side
through the sweltering heat
under the Terebinth Tree
sharing roasted lamb wild rice and slices of sabra
tough on the outside
sweet on the in
just like sabra
loving one man—
!!!!!!
but in this day and age
two cannot share one fate
seven years of waiting passed and paid for the elder
[his eyes all over] the junior—
—strangely—loves both
/too much/
to force her own hand
++happiness++
the younger looks on in bittersweet blessing
and gazes upon her desert inheritance
seeking the next oasis
or possibly
/the OCEAN/
* * *
two dark-haired sisters
sipping chamomile tea under the Terebinth Tree
rolling their bread into balls
in one identical deft movement
before chewing—swallowing—
they split-savor a sabra
[prickly fruit of unbearable climate]
sensing each immediate future
Sisters by Fate—not Blood or Choice:
the soft-featured Pole on the right
with her weak leaking water-blue eyes
the contoured German on the left
her Mediterranean sandstone-shadow hard eyes
cutting
striking through the Sun dead ahead
(the oppressive sky burns up mirages)
Something Strangenew trickles this Way
—the wind smells of milk and honey—
the sabra juice leaves footprints on her lips
* * *
two sisters of jealousy
staring one another down
over the last bit of Fruitflesh
both tall thin almost wiry;
right: boyish straight
left: curly comely;
the first counts her camels
while the latter leaves her broken idols
for some faraway idyll/ideal
She will get the (mini)(cara)vans
all the second her sister
will start at station wagons and suburbans
THE STRANGENESS
the one treking through the wasteland
the other reaping her wheat with a wicked glistening eye
* * *
just like twins
sometimes their man
can’t tell the difference
—DOES HE KNOW WHO HE’LL UNVEIL TODAY—
* * *
sisters who can never grow to friendship
(illegal)(unallowed)
but will be bound together past time
through one man and their Palestinian Ties
the senior through marriage
the inheritor through bloodline
two sisters part in silence
[jacob was not worth it/neither is benjamin]
why bother to fight
let sleeping dogs die and gather in your sheep
______ ______
she is you leah
[watch me walk away]
and I am your rachel
_____ _______
/I’ll always be Your Rachel/
* * *
only when I’ve crossed the final line of life will you open those dead eyes
NOW
watch me weave my destiny
like lillith; rebecca
my pockets full of Sabra
©️ 2001
Originally posted on my DeviantArt
Mischa Fox 