Poem by Jehuda Amihai

I didn’t even notice when you loved me.
I traded you for another, like Isaac did,
for a scent, a taste, a hunger for flesh,
for the smell of earth, a home, and a touch of heat.
I’ve forgotten the words of the only
letter I ever wrote you.
All I remember is the taste
of the stamp’s glue on my tongue.
The fate that was set for us wasn’t all that written,
though it had the strength and certainty of a violinist’s finger
when it seals the fate of a note,
even if that note is as final and sharp
as death itself.