and then i dream about rocks


white and pink, like jam in a caucasian

belly-button thrown

at our 1993 subaru on derech hevron

the car with the hole in the backseat

so you could see

the road that leads to the church of nativity


rocks that make up my house

side-eyeing the minaret and steeple: phallic

reminders that people still believe

mary and muhammad were real


rocks that tear through my savta’s window

screen then i

wake up then i

wake up

and hadil is still dead

4 miles from this house

in soil toiled and cleared

of the same white-pink

and of



thinking it’s impossible

can’t be real can’t be happening can’t be true

deny deny the dream the occupation the death

deny deny you pup you rational pup you

don’t pretend you know better:

how is this suicide different than all others?

but it’s not pesach yet

so no questions you

ain’t even the youngest anymore


this city fucks your senses

don’t know what’s dream or what’s denial

i swear

i saw her kiss my jew-nose

and her mouth

was not the colors

was blue-green,

i know

no questions but

can you drown honey?