Abishag
Jacob Glatstein
1926
Abishag. Little, young, warm Abishag.
Shout into the street: King David is not yet dead.
But King David wants to sleep and they won’t let him.
Adoniyahu with his gang shout my crown off my gray head.
The fat Bathsheba blesses me with eternal life and watches my last words with a sly smile.
Sleep, my king. The night is still. We are all your…
Please login or register for free access to Posen Library
Already have an account?