The Crazy Book

Haim Gouri

1971

Arab Halva—moist, sticky, fibrous. The taste tears across my lips like a memory. Within me Jaffa stirs, wakens from sleep; eyes and faces of Jaffa.

I am there, it is afternoon, a city half-awake, swept by sea wind. Jaffa arises from sleep domed and spired, shadowy orchards beneath a lilac sky, an ebbing sea like metal.

Evening. This is her silence…

Please login or register for free access to Posen Library Already have an account?

Engage with this Source

You may also like