that glows like an ember, that burns like coals

You know, she said, they made you 

a dress of fire. 

Remember how Jason's wife burned in her dress? 

It was Medea, she said, Medea did that to her. 

You've got to be careful, she said, 

they made you a dress that glows 

like an ember,
that burns like coals. 

Are you going to wear it, she said, don't wear it. 

It's not the wind whistling, it's the poison 

seeping in. 

You're not even a princess, what can you do to Medea? 

Can't you tell one sound from another, she said, 

it's not the wind whistling. 

Remember, I told her, that time when I was six? 

They shampooed my hair and I went out into the street. 

The smell of shampoo trailed after me like a cloud. 

Then I got sick from the wind and the rain. 

I didn't know a thing about reading Greek tragedies, 

but the smell of the perfume spread 

and I was very sick. 

Now I can see it's an unnatural perfume. 

What will happen to you, she said, 

they made you a burning dress. 

They made me a burning dress, I said. I know. 

So why are you standing there, she said, 

you've got to be careful. 

You know what a burning dress is, don't you? 

I know, I said, but I don't know

how to be careful. 

The smell of that perfume confuses me. 

I said to her, No one has to agree with me, 

I don't believe in Greek tragedies. 

But the dress, she said, the dress is on fire. 

What are you saying, I shouted, 

what are you saying? 

I'm not wearing a dress at all, 

what's burning is me. 

[Dahlia Ravikovitch {1936-2005} 'A Dress of Fire', from The Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry]