I gaze at the map,
watercolor, wrinkled
paper rainbow pastels
sprawling across his wood floor.
Pin thin black lines
scribbled, broken
some jagged.
Dry desert
up for grabs.
Everlasting
longitude and
latitude
The entire planet is
paying attention.
Jews on the left, Jews on the right,
hats, no hats
prayer in Jerusalem or
party in Tel Aviv?
Salt crystals sun themselves on the water’s edge,
bunched-up like leftover snow.
Almost cut my hand on one
as I crawl out on all fours away from Jordan,
my blond hair weighed down by minerals.....
he thinks of me,
and it’s true.
Sometimes I’m unsure
afraid to flaunt,
but in my purple string bikini
I’m making eye contact
with everyone,
to see if I’m still kosher meat....
