They came
with their black kerchiefs
tied tightly
under their chins.
They brought us
earthen jars.
Sprigs of barley.
Their scythes upright
above their heads.
They entered our hearths.
They cackled at our gadgets.
They turned our beds upside down.
They smeared our makeup
on the walls.
They pulled out all the plugs.
The set up their washboards.
They leaned pickaxes
against the doors.
They started spinning
our children’s clothes.
They bowed reverently before our husbands.
They braided the whips neatly for them.
They kissed their feet.
They left.
They walked into the fields
and, turning their heads
to make sure no one was looking,
they undressed in the moonlight
and fell upon each other.
Lili Bita
Translated by Robert Zaller