
All my sad nights I lay crying
over my life: I was a girl sold
in marriage to an ugly old man I hated.
How I wanted to kill myself when
your harp music drifted from the palace.
I let the notes flow over my body and
dam my tears. I heard your harp again
as my hands tested the bath water.
I let the notes guide my hands into
making slow waves with the water,
stood up. Your music rose with me.
My back to the window I could have
turned, closed the curtain. Instead
I let the music lift up my arms.
Unhooking my robe I felt the notes
caress my neck, heard your harp stop
for a second when I dropped my robe,
stood naked, sank into the soft water.
Your music spiraled swiftly
down my breasts, then slid softly
over my belly. The notes danced up
my thighs. When I stepped out of the bath
to reach for the towel your music poured
over me in a fountain of joy.
— “Bath-Sheba”
Through the persona of Shulamith, “the singer of all the songs,” these poems treat the condition of Jewish women in the Bible as a prelude to the trials, misfortunes, and victories of their heroic counterparts in the twentieth century.