Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Sigal Ben Yair

CLEANER

You fall asleep in a corner of the boardroom,
hiding from
the supervisor. The palm of your hand rests
on a broomstick
as on a spindle,
the edges of the mop at your feet
fan out like a prom dress.
In the dark, you’re invisible once more,
and you do not wait
for a kiss.       

מְנַקָּה

מְנַקָּה

נִרְדֶּמֶת בְּפִנַּת חֲדַר הַיְשִׁיבוֹת,
נְחְבֵּאת מִפְּנֵי
הָאַחְרָאִית. כַּף יָד מֻטֶּלֶת עַל 
מוֹט הַמַּגֵּב
כְּמוֹ עַל כִּישׁוֹר,
וְשׁוּלֵי הַסְּחָבָה לְרַגְלַיִךְ
מִתְפַּתְּלִים כְּשִׂמְלַת נְשָׁפִים. 
בַּחשֶׁךְ, שׁוּב לֹא רוֹאִים אוֹתָךְ,
וְאֵינֵךְ מְחַכָּה 
לַנְּשִׁיקָה.

 
Close

CLEANER

You fall asleep in a corner of the boardroom,
hiding from
the supervisor. The palm of your hand rests
on a broomstick
as on a spindle,
the edges of the mop at your feet
fan out like a prom dress.
In the dark, you’re invisible once more,
and you do not wait
for a kiss.       

CLEANER

You fall asleep in a corner of the boardroom,
hiding from
the supervisor. The palm of your hand rests
on a broomstick
as on a spindle,
the edges of the mop at your feet
fan out like a prom dress.
In the dark, you’re invisible once more,
and you do not wait
for a kiss.       
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère