Gates forged in hard sunlight Open to their frozen fields Ploughed with ice, and iron. The soldier touched me Hands trembling like a lover, Eyes wet with rain. Please take it, drink this What have they done to you all Oh god I drank,and vomited The world out of me How god hated us there. I am taut, thin as a lampshade still lit by a sickly glow. Driftwood, discarded paper Ankle deep, knee deep Neck deep in tides Of clothes and shoes An ocean of spectacle glass and twisted wire. * Sliding along train tracks greasy with smoke from the killing machine, I roost in a tree, just starting to bloom Before flying home, arching A Chagall bride in a starry sky. My home carved out In an empty town Now lit by the lamps of others. Uncertain I wait, A pair of hungry eyes Sinking behind the wallpaper's pattern. Transformed, filthy, out of mind I watch the family I do not know, Plump and peaceful She cooks at my mother's stove, He rests his greying head in my father's chair. A boy dreams with flushed cheeks In my childhood bed, on summer nights The radio says its prayers. Thanks be to god! There is truly so little that we need For happiness.
Anna Potter June 21