It was after that dream that it happened.
That dream of Israel and us -
you chased me around the chalky, high-walled alleys.
I heard the slip of your foot as it slid in its sandal
I could almost see it as you ran fast after me.
Our always chase.
Of course, you caught me; arms waist-wrapped,
my pale-blue dress hiked we two laughing
until our eyes met; pale green, black-flecked
set off by a light tan - I saw that gleam.
I knew it then. You knew it too:
Led me back to a white-walled room
where I offered and you took.
We - lovers then.
Over tea and honey I told you about it.
"No choice," you said.
My heart's fast beat and whir
Such details I told, stammering.
You said then, "What is it you are waiting for?
You know it will be me."
I could not argue. The dream mere confirmation.
So there we were, remarkably alone, nobody to patrol -
and you led me
to a high-wooden, linen-sheeted bed where
I stood and you so reverently undressed me
leaving me only in my tap-pants while I meanwhile
fiddled with the blue ribbon-edging until it began at last to unthread -
You knelt, and gently pulled it through each eyelet -
me - ribbon- undone, you placed us on the bed.
I was no longer that girl of summer's past -
kisses had, and even that!
Now, still awkward in these new curves;
you had never seen me before, uninterrupted
and this time your eyes moved over me until
I was spotted-pink and flush with shyness.
And you offered me your tongue -
that gentle wafer, spirit, communion, absolution
I took you in, took you in,
and then and then and then
I heard my own sigh-cry of your name, Elijah:
We were changed - now true lovers.
No way around it now.
The only evidence of this
a rose-bud attar on the white, white linen:
Where we had came. Where we had been.