The Red Door: A dark fairy tale told in poems
The Red Door: A dark fairy tale told in poems
The story starts at a Jewish funeral. fist after fist fills with cool damp earthIt travels to Israel: at ben-gurion airporthere she comes hauling her baggagerendered clumsy by her burdenbeneath that smooth brown skinthat halo of thick coarse hairthe plantation and the shtetllive in blood and memoryher passport names hertirzah persephone horowitzafter an aunt on her dad's sidewho died so young in the campsand her mother's favorite greek mythbut to call her tirzah is too muchlike uncovering her nakednesslike speaking aloud the holy nameand the holy city of Tzfat...i am a city of songplucked strings of a lyreloud brassy klezmerthrobbing techno beatsshoes clop-clopping on cobblestonetires screeching on the asphalt riverwinding round my peakIt features monsters...terry loves monstersloved them since her first pimples and pubessneaking dracula under the coverswondering what it would be liketo feel a vampire's fangs on her neckto taste human blood in her mouthto transform into wolf or bat or mistbut dracula always diesstaked and beheaded by good christian menbecause magic and mystery must not surviveAnd it ends...No. That would be telling.
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The story starts at a Jewish funeral. fist after fist fills with cool damp earthIt travels to Israel: at ben-gurion airporthere she comes hauling her baggagerendered clumsy by her burdenbeneath that smooth brown skinthat halo of thick coarse hairthe plantation and the shtetllive in blood and memoryher passport names hertirzah persephone horowitzafter an aunt on her dad's sidewho died so young in the campsand her mother's favorite greek mythbut to call her tirzah is too muchlike uncovering her nakednesslike speaking aloud the holy nameand the holy city of Tzfat...i am a city of songplucked strings of a lyreloud brassy klezmerthrobbing techno beatsshoes clop-clopping on cobblestonetires screeching on the asphalt riverwinding round my peakIt features monsters...terry loves monstersloved them since her first pimples and pubessneaking dracula under the coverswondering what it would be liketo feel a vampire's fangs on her neckto taste human blood in her mouthto transform into wolf or bat or mistbut dracula always diesstaked and beheaded by good christian menbecause magic and mystery must not surviveAnd it ends...No. That would be telling.
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