( after Yehuda Amichai measured the diameter of a bomb)
At times I have this curious feeling that
I am married to a bomb.
But then, I often ponder, I am not even distantly
Related to any explosive tribe.
How come, then, I am spousing an IED?
I am not even a bullet, for heaven's sake.
My bomb is pregnant.
But I am afraid of fathering baby bombs.
But I am cornered by bomb makers.
I shouldn't have voted for you.
I should have known, better than sulphur,
That in the chemistry of explosions
Beating of hearts, of love and its inhabitants,
Could, at least, pacify or divert
Projectiles of missiles from harming hearths,
If bombs have families.
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