All that Flesh and Fat - Anat Zecharia

All that flesh and fat, the coffee and the muffins
sunflower seeds in Atlantic sea salt,
all those matching items, the pillows
with tiger-head drawings.
All those shadows revealing beauty in motion,
all fluttering like bats
above a cold light source,
with coral reef wall-paper for an illusion of depth.
All those women whose flesh is bound
by swimsuit straps,
by the appropriate garlands, peacock’s splendour,
the sweets. All those fans
fighting for their lives,
their backs clinging to ceilings,
bits of recycled metal,
locks, a nail-file, knife, screws,
and the blackening ink which stains
the children’s clothes.
All those glass plates that build
a new transparent city,
the shapely stairway curving at the corner,
all the notices pasted upon notices,
pasted illegally,
“Offenders will be prosecuted.
Be forewarned!”
All those empty beer bottles, black bin bags,
dark skinned people from Africa
red that is also light brown
and yellow that is also pale.
And the moon overflowing on television
and the puddle collecting on the floor
and silence.
An entire pack of dogs upon one lone kitten,
All the mice in yellow fields,
and the scratch and peeling, revealing creative and annihilating light
honey and milk under our tongues.
And the blowing wind before we depart,
and the geometry, the symmetry and the “Doctor! Doctor!” and the Trojan Horse of Death.

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Anat Zecharia (born 1974) Israel
Translated by Irit Sela
Source: Transcript