By Julia Knobloch


I say my blessings in the orchard, I have turned over the soil.

I give with dubious hands; the intention does not count.

We remain a forbidden junction, peaches and almonds.

I have only been here four years and you since Abraham.

You want a vessel for your seeds —


I was not barren all my life, hearts beat in my womb.

Soon I will lie fallow.


I smell sycamores in dusky air, wine and laughter —

The trees must be blocked for three years,

everywhere and for all times the first fruits belong to G-d.

But the year of holiness ends tonight, and we may eat.


Where are you?

Julia Knoblich is a Brooklyn based poet.