Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh

A poem, a prayer

(Blessed) heavy is the head who wears the crown

and storms are holier than sun

(my bones know this, shaped from clay, bread, borders)

I am not simply the rib

(the protector, the cage, the seal)

I am the breath, the gasp between words

whisper —

again

I am the floor, stone hewn tiles

Quiet, look inside, it’s all there

claw at the ribcage, rip it open

turn to G-d, scrub myself clean

arrange each piece on the kitchen floor

(a womans work is never done)