I.B. Iskov



I smell schav from thoughts,

ramble in that other language

without reason.

I imagine words

naked in their truths.


My shadow drags my whispers,

with high authority –

a lot of chutzpah

fades a little each day.


Bent by a notion,

I’m lying on my back as light

falls across the bed like a tallis.

I scrutinize the sanctity of the spread.


The moment jumps to life,

where a lump of schav

disappears into my mouth

like the thoughts

of a silent chorus.




All material in the journal is subject to copyright; copyright is held by the journal except where otherwise indicated. There is to be no reproduction or distribution of contents by any means without prior permission. Contents do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors.

© 2007 Women in Judaism, Inc.

© 1997-2018 Women in Judaism, Inc. ISSN 1209-9392

Women in Judaism, Inc. is a registered not-for-ptofit organization.

Thornhill, Ontario, Canada


If you enjoy this journal, please consider donating.