When my Father Died my Forehead Died
by Rivka Miriam: When my father died my forehead died. / At first I didn’t understand the whiteness that spread over it
Israel
[The truth and I are flatmates]
The truth and I are flatmates. Since I moved in before her my room is larger than hers. Since I sleep late and she wakes early we share each day only eight hours, half of them darkness, half light. Some mornings she longs to wake me up, hesitates at the edge of my room while …
Rivka Miriam
Poetry International 15/16
“When my Father Died my Forehead Died”
Tal Nitzän
Poetry International 22/23
“[The truth and I are flatmates]”