Tal, My Tal II

Tel Aviv dressed in white, the sea
her sequined scarf. I imagine how
I could as easily have stayed here, carved
out a life. Had a child named Tal like

the Tal from El Al, red head, tough and sweet
blushingly beautiful, Tal, my Tal,
early morning dew on bougainvillea.
I hear her calling me, whispering my name.

Waves wash the Tel Aviv coast, I see an
Ethiopian girl, thin as a stick,
jumping in and out of the water.
"Eema, count for me, see how long I stay under.

I see a blond of four, born in Frankfurt,
having a tea party with herself,
tiny cup, tiny pitcher, visiting grandpa.

A couple from Paris lotioning a
baby, placing him in inflated tub,
pushing him along with help of sea and sky.

All of us, like Yehuda, part here, part
there, glimpsing past, present, and
what may still be ours to have.

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