Today's poem is by Hadara Bar-Nadav

Lullaby (with Exit Sign)

I slept with all four hooves

                              in the air or I slept like a snail

                    in my broken shell.

The periphery of the world

                              dissolved. A giant exit sign

                    blinking above my head.

My family sings

                              its death march.

                    They are the size of the moon.

No, they are the size

                              of thumbtacks punched

                    through the sky's eyelid.

What beauty, what bruise.

                              (What strange lullaby is this

                    that sings from its wound?)

Here, my dead father knocks

                              on a little paper door. Here

                    my family knocks, waits.

Come through me, my darlings

                              whatever you are: flame,

                    lampshade, soap.

Leave your shattered shadows

                              behind. I'll be the doorway

                    that watches you go.

Copyright © 2013 Hadara Bar-Nadav All rights reserved
from Lullaby (with Exit Sign)
Saturnalia Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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