Poetry from Abigail George

The good husband

The good husband

stands vertically in the

kitchen, flat on his back

He washes the dishes

even when he is tired

The good husband

is my sweet father

He sweeps the floor

He listens to me

He is the only one who does

He babysits his granddaughter

He sits in the hot garden

next to his gambling son

who smokes a joint

and drinks whiskey alone

in the study. My father,

he doesn’t know what to do

about his depression,

about his cancer,

about his wife who doesn’t

love him, and he wishes to

marry another, he wishes

to change his religion

He eats my food, my rice,

my fish and cold potatoes

and says it tastes good

Dad’s lips are pink, he sips water

He is a good man, a beautiful tree

I rest under the pale shade of that tree

I am one of his branches

He is a wounded man, his mood is a particle,

a vein, some fruit

He has been a good husband

We are Kafka, dad and me

We are gazelle, light-footed

dad and me, it has always been dad and me

I don’t dedicate poems anymore to people

I’m through with love

He says that I’m a good woman

I’ll find someone one day

I tell him he doesn’t have to say that

I open the curtains

The sun falls into my lap

My mother locks me

back in the attic

They put my father

in the sitting room

He writes on paper in pencil

saying he has found a cure

for all social ills

Saying he has found a cure

for bladder cancer

Saying he has found a cure

for me too

They let me out

when I’m good

Only when I’m good

No more fruit on the trees

A man steps out of his shower

and a bomb falls out of the sky

On the other side of the world

a woman walks into IKEA

as a bomb falls out of the sky

There is nothing left for us to do

but to get out of this hell hole

There is nothing left for us to do

but to get out of this place

There is nothing left for us to do

but to go to paradise 

and live there

There are no settlers in paradise

There is, in other words, 

no settler occupation in paradise

When we die, we must go to paradise

Does this make sense to you?

This bomb

This invasion

This war

This genocide

This total annihilation

It is not making sense to me 

But I forgive

If I don’t, I’ll go insane

Little Flower

The sun fades away 

into a key in the palm of my hand

A significant other 

disappeared into the snow,

into the field

You were the white-hot sand

that I walked upon,

that shouted beneath my feet

Bombs fell into the mountains

Into the all-girls school

Into the hospital

There is rubble that is a day old

There is rubble that is ancient

Ancient and wise

There is no longer 

any fruit on these trees

The ancient and wise 

fruit are long gone

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