by Agi Mishol （Translated by Lisa Katz）

    The evening goes blind， and you are only twenty.： Nathan Alterman，“Late Afternoon in the Market”

    You are only twenty

    and your first pregnancy is a bomb.

    Under your broad skirt you are pregnant with dynamite

    and metal shavings. This is how you walk in the market，

    ticking among the people， you， Andaleeb Takatka.

    Someone loosened the screws in your head

    and launched you toward the city；

    even though you come from Bethlehem，

    the Home of Bread， you chose a bakery.

    And there you pulled the trigger out of yourself，

    and together with the Sabbath loaves，

    sesame and poppy seed，

    you flung yourself into the sky.

    Together with Rebecca Fink you flew up

    with Yelena Konre‘ev from the Caucasus

    and Nissim Cohen from Afghanistan

    and Suhila Houshy from Iran

    and two Chinese you swept along

    to death.

    Since then， other matters

    have obscured your story，

    about which I speak all the time

    without having anything to say.