In Hebrew, the word women is the word men
with the first letter dropped. Not just any letter
but the first first letter, the aleph of the aleph-bet:
אנשים anashim—men
נשים nashim—women
The steel band securing the forehead
to the bed is preheated, but cools quickly.
Inside every men is a women
you’ll need to amputate to find.
אלוהים Elohim—god
לוהים lohim—to tire
Even the god gets tired in our first story.
Adonai has many lids over each eye
and so she pretends to rest
closing one set of eyelids at a time.
Never a Sabbath of visionless sleep.
אבא aba—father
בא ba—come
Do away with the role charged to the first father
and we will all orgasm more freely.
We will bleat like beasts while we come,
our wooly curls matted and frizzy without a single embarrassed shiver.
אני ani—I/me
ני ni—lamentation
Too many of the dead
cry silently in their coffins
grateful for a place they can finally weep alone
but fearful even now to be overheard.
The dirt we are formed from can seem so thin.
אים iyom—threatening
ימ yam—sea
If the ocean is the first mother
then the lakes are those moments we hear ourselves
threaten our children in our mother’s voice.
Afterward, we absorb the tears into our own waters.
אסור asoor—forbidden
סור soor—withdraw
What’s forbidden is often drawn as a circle.
But every circle, no matter how small
contains another circle within.
The way to escape circumscription is inward.
אפשר efshar—possible
פשר pishair—compromise
To say possible is to leave someone out.
No one is possible until everyone is.
On this one truth, never compromise.
