Karen Levy

You bring out the desert in me. The sand and wind and sea in me.
Jellyfish sting in your thigh, red flag at the beach.

Enter at your own risk.

You call forth Jerusalem in me, city of walls and golden light.
Daggers in the market place reserved for tourists like you.

Watch your back.

You will forth the Red Sea in me, Eilat kissed by red mountains at dawn.
Ink black sea urchins waiting for a fleshy heel to hook.

Exquisite pain.

You bring out the Sabra in me, prickly pear on ice at the beach.
Sweet and wet, offered on the tip of a blade and all yours.

Watch for thorns.

You break through the barbed wire in me, the Uzi strapped to the bed.
Silent but loaded.

You can´t say you weren´t warned, by the very man giving me away.
How, precisely, did he put it? Touched? Unwell?

Buyer beware.