the beginning of a difficult poem

by Agi Mishol
(taken from a segment on "The News Hour" on PBS)

You are only twenty
and your first pregnancy is a bomb.
Under your broad skirt you are pregnant with dynamite
ticking among the people, you, Andaleeb Takatka.
Someone loosened the screws in your head
and launched you toward the city;
even though you come from Bethlehem,
the House of Bread, you chose a bakery.
And there you pulled the trigger out of yourself,
and together with the Sabbath loaves,
sesame and poppy seed,
you flung yourself into the sky.


Annie said…
What a powerful image in this poem. Thank you for posting it to share.

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