Limen

What I want is between softness and stone, 
between god and Adam— what I want, 
is something between fruits and meats. 
I want to move on the water and out of the water, 
I want to hang from the tree and rot in the earth. 

I long for such separate and opposing things. 
I turn my head left and right; 
I wish I could face both directions, 
my body rended, running east and west. 
I turn to god, I turn to men, 
and I turn ahead to see trees. 

This tree says, I’ve got all the answers. 
I think— 
            where is the border 
                        between the skin of women 
                                    and the skin of that fruit?