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She turns the pages, naked uncles
so naked and skinny, run and
even aunties with fannies showing
and others in pajamas as in a show
with yellow cloth stars sewed on.
And everybody so ugly and thin,
a…
“The birds, Regina! The birds! The birds!” he cried out. “You don’t hear? Our child…Issachar!…Issachar!…Regina!…That bird…Issachar…that bird…that bird.…”
When Luna entered the room with her bridegroom…
It is possible, it is very possible, that here it is impossible to live, but here we must remain, here we must die, sleep…there is no other place…—Y. H. Brenner