On the window glass,
Moon breaks into cold pieces,
Sudden taps of noisy wind play
Domestic music all the night.
We do have some
Dialogues of our conjugal ceremony
As lyrics, and some
Regular soliloquies of awakened eyes.
They roll down gradually
From the bedside table
To the cashmere carpet on the floor.
Embroidered daisies and doves,
Mock our innocence there.
As we are black, and blank, like
The moonless sky above the Dead Sea.
A sea where fishes do not live,
To celebrate this
Unbearable heaviness of reality.