Eva Eliav

  

Eva Eliav grew up in Toronto, Canada and received a degree in English Language and Literature from the University of Toronto.  Since 1970 she has been living in Israel.  Her work has been published in a number of literary magazines both in Israel and abroad, including Room of One’s Own (Canada), Parchment (Canada), The Voices Anthology (Israel), ARC (Israel), Natural Bridge (U.S.), Quality Women's Fiction (U.S.), and the online literary journal, The Apple Valley Review.  Her poems are due to appear in Stand (U.K.).  She is presently working on new collections of poetry and prose. Eva is married and has a daughter.   

The following works are copyright © 2008. All rights reserved. No distribution or reprinting in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  

before babel

childhood’s spent
listening

in the infinite spaces
of back gardens

ants pass
repass

their voices
crisp and spare
as falling leaves

ghosts of mice
that died
decades ago

return
in pristine pelts
of wind and sun

beguile children
with their reedy cries

  

clouds

nothing interests her
this morning
but those clouds

piled gray boulders
just when she needed
blue

uncluttered sky
to calm her
cluttered heart

her hands
with lives of their own
have been deadheading roses

bruised petals
she can’t bear to toss away
where beauty liquifies
becomes sour
near mossy cheese
and remnants
of last night’s supper
 
they deserve a bonfire
at least
a celebration
a dignified spiralling
upwards
of sheer smoke

carefully
in a porcelain dish
she burns them

papery as old skin
they crisp
and curl

for a moment
everything in her stops
to listen

hears
clouds cracking
fissures leaking light

  

spring lyric

 
this is the light
that runs
between our fingers

pure and restless
as a mountain spring

coarse old thoughts
grow tender
with new green

bloom within
a moment’s biosphere

pigeons
plump as wishes
walk the walk

flaunting
like poets
their iridescent throats