Upstairs at the Morocco Cafe

October 19, 1994|By Hannah Strauss

Fifteen blue stairs to Morocco Cafe,

an Israeli garden of chairs, neat array

of white tables and napkins,

the green-aproned girl who walks home

after closing.

The green-aproned girl came here from

Tashkent through the Turkestan mountains.

Her brother the chemist still calls her

Miss Shtern, his Galina, but here

she is Galit and here speaks no Russian.

At Morocco Cafe once she lifted

her lashes and the green awnings

lifted their lashes wide

for one moment of billowing cloth

high on the hips of this town

of Beersheva

Her hands on her apron,

her eyes, her face shy as the roof

rose to bosom the warm-chested sky:

ripple of western canvas

and breeze, for Galina one

widening ripple of canvas and breeze.

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