Epigenetics

Diti Ronen
Translated by Joanna Chen

1.
I was the wind singing through curtains / a window looking out at the view / washing drying in the cold air. / I folded love / from corner to corner / placing it / in carefully stacked sheets. / All my hope I gathered there. / I stood in the doorway and waited.

2.
In the house / your face is curated / your eyes thump against conjugations of the tongue / dictating the beat / of the heart / the diction of the blood as it pumps through your veins. / A wail becomes a laugh / a groan displaced through the labyrinth of rooms. / Your image is reflected in the mirror that hangs in the hall. / Now I am two which is one.

3.
On the Sabbath morning the house came to a dead halt. / Sealed its apertures / held its breath. / The toys stood in their boxes / the books on the shelves / the cups on hooks / the water in a jug / the rice in a saucepan. / The cracks held themselves in readiness / and no man said a word / nor woman.

4.
Now even the deer have left / their steps in the forest subsiding. / A cold wind is also a voice / and distant music / a man turning over in his sleep / dreaming of home. / Anything is possible. / Music will magnify / wind will waltz / deer will dance at the edge of the valley / their hooves imprinted on the forest floor.