Once, I found a conch shell
in the garden.
I wiped the mud
from its golden spiral, flared lip,
pink insides spilling out,
smell of rain wet soil.
℘
My father asked me if I could keep
a secret. Sara was her name—
She was eighteen,
two years older than I.
Don’t tell your mother, he said.
℘
What has become of the garden?
The one where my mother
tended the weeds.
Tell me about the plot of land
where rows of radishes
hide their crimson bodies.
℘
My father’s eyes were
always on fire.
By the river, the boathouses,
the women dressed
in red, waiting for the men.
His eyes on fire.
℘
Wasn’t a woman once dug
from the dirt?
Lilith was her name.
Tell me she, too, formed
the image of God.
℘
The last time I saw him, he said
I will always be your father. I packed
my belongings—faded jeans,
a tambourine, the conch shell,
a coffee colored photo of my parents
& me among the garden weeds.
℘
Lilith was last seen
in the sea,
her head above water,
neck strained,
a little she-demon,
wings immersed
in salt.
℘
When I come to the coast
the wind blows
up my skirt. I hear
the cerulean waves—
hush, hush.
I hear his voice, silencing.
I wish I could baptize
your dirty soul.
His hand wrapped around my jaw.
℘
I throw the conch shell
into the waves.
My mother tells me
it’s home now. Some things
are better left
untouched.
℘
Tell me about the four rivers
of Eden—how they ended
in the sea.
Geula Geurts is a Dutch born poet and essayist residing in Jerusalem. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Bar Ilan University. Her mini-chapbook 'Like Any Good Daughter' was published by Platypus Press (2016). Her chapbook 'Where the Sea is Quenched of Thirst' was a finalist in the 2018 Autumn House Chapbook Contest. Her work has been anthologized and has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Tinderbox Editions, Counterclock, Jellyfish Review, Rogue Agent and The Boiler, among others. She works as a literary agent at the Deborah Harris Literary Agency.