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Ishot

i embraced the qotel
not believing in g0d, i sought you
but found only folded prayers
and bitter herbs growing amongst
hamsin-coloured stones

their crevaces i crawled between,
a vestal virgin shimmying       
through my halo's hole
sacred whore, history's orphan
talit-swaddled with old bones

painted bird worn like a crown
from the old religion,
i run down cobbled streets
of an old city
in search of hamsin-gold

alice traded auschwitz. warm ovens,
cold stones, gematria-limbs
history's orphan, i sought you
hobbling through new world
order

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