(30)
FATHER VISITS HIS CHILDHOOD HOME
FATHER: We arrived at the city.
I didn’t give the driver an address,
I directed him
right left right left
until I got to the house.
I moved at age eight,
fifty years I hadn’t been there
and even so I remembered the way.
ME: and then…?
FATHER: I stepped out of the cab,
I stood on the sidewalk across from the house
and stared.
ME: and then…?
FATHER: Nothing.
The house was unchanged.
It remained exactly as I’d remembered it,
maybe a bit smaller.
ME: and then…?
FATHER: Nothing.
ME: What’s nothing?
You didn’t cross the street?
You didn’t enter the stairwell?
You didn’t knock on the door?
FATHER: No.
For what? I
do not believe
in psychology.
—Tamir Lahav Radlmesser, Year Book
Tel-Aviv: Am Oved Press (2003)
Translation, M. Salomon
golempoem 