Sarah, Remembering the Poetess
By Berlin Poet Britta R. Kollberg
My Arab sister covers her mouth when she listens;
I see her big hand under her eyes, her cheek leaning on it.
My Arab sister covers her mouth when she speaks;
she smiles with her brow and frowns not. Yet.
My Arab sister covers her eyes when she writes,
but when she reads, she stirs my pen and table,
when she reads, she makes my breath
freeze and clink down like hailstones.
My Arab sister covers my ear,
when she reads, with icy dew;
her words roll off her tongue like earthen clumps. Could I
have taken this from her
to send to Abimelech and the Pharaoh. Could I
have taken but one stone and put it before Abram’s tent.
One stone of hail to freeze my rage.