74 Charoset Rivka says he blushes all over, his skin first stings her tongue then strokes it with treacle. Rivka holds my hand and says His teeth nip at her lips and Bring out blood drops. Rivka brushes my hair. She says His scent of rare spices makes her drunk and has invaded her dreams. She tells me she understands, finally, Why her mother called sex “the most complicated mitzvah.” I am pensive, hand her my lavender pomade, my matching combs. “I understand,” I tell her, “he was with me once upon a time.” ***
The Cenacle | 79 | October2011