Hey. Oh. Oh. Oh, you’re not…
You fill the air with your endless dung-steam words –
you must; you will; now; soon; never –
do you hear you?
Hereandnow reproaches, prankstering
excuses, gowiththeflow stipulations,
and then the cherry: slick wink&smile.
you fill the air with your youness,
fitasafiddle, fullheadofhair, allyourownteeth,
oh go on, no-one’d give you adayoverfifty
in your armchair, slippers and kneewarmer;
here’s your coffee cup launched
into slow motion, abrupt
crush of newspaper, one hand clutching
your cravat, the other scrabbling
at your chest,
and your keel-over theatric.
You make me freeze.
Make my reflexes jump.
Always do. Your pranks turn me
into a cliché.
So why, this time, though we live
in the mountains, do my eyelashes
seem to be splattering seaspray?
Seree Zohar’s art, poetry and flash fiction are influenced by the landscapes of Australia, and by two decades of farming in Israel. Seree, mother of four, currently lives in Jerusalem; lectures in Europe on Biblical texts with focus on the intersection of literal and esoteric in Genesis; and collaborated with Alan Sullivan on Psalms-of-King-David, a recently published new versified translation. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in diverse print and online venues. A favorite hobby is foisting flash-recipes on her unsuspecting family.