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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 14 | volume III | April-May, 2000



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 14April-May, 2000
Poetry

I Look through the Monkeys’ Eyes

/5
p. 2
Amir Or

The Barbarians (Round Two)
Blue Job
A Glas of Beer
Epitaph
I Look through the Monkeys’ Eyes

_______________________________________________________________________

Blue Job

He skipped all the way to the park in the drizzle.
He plucked a large leaf and wore it on his head.
Then he got rid of his shirt.
Then his shoes.
Beside the lake he stopped and stared at the water.
He rooted his toes in the black mud and swayed in the wind.
He was fired and free.
There isn’t, wasn’t, won’t be.
Clouds and more clouds.
A curious duck probes between his toes, a lightning hand,
he pressed and pressed. Now with both hands.
He twisted its neck around
like they used to do at secret parties
among the chicken coops at the kibbutz.
The duck ran, maybe ten yards
without its head
and collapsed on the water
line.
The face of the waters exploded and turned blue.
He stood there, like a gutter
and urinated at length.
He had no shirt.
He was cold.


Translation: Vivian Eden






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