English, Poetry

Quattro Stagioni

Quattro Stagioni

They shared their first home with his sister
who shared her bed with communists
in crochet bikinis and LSD fog.

They shared their second home with 12 cats
who shared all the space between outdoors loo, garage
and a fir tree planted in the old fish pond.

In their third home, they shared
a sense of impending disaster from seeing the flood marks
on the cellar walls, way above their heads.

In their fourth homes, they share
boxes of dried thyme, milk teeth, empty rooms, musty
Vogue and Men’s Health magazines and his late mother’s unplayed piano.

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English, Poetry

Love was a shield

Love was a shield

Late for school because of a dragonfly,
a fear of rabid foxes
and — just in case we’d lick them —
cocaine on the backs of collectible stickers.

The world outside our windows wasn’t free
and batteries weren’t included.
I traded my stuffed Garfield for a Keypers.
Mum made me go back the next day to unswap them.

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English, Poetry

Skin types

Skin types

It’s late, though impossibly early for going to bed.
You’ll have bought your birthday present from the money I left you
visited Jake’s workshop and gone dancing with his wife.
The couple we loved like we thought we would never
the ones we would give up our jobs for
and found a commune with. Or at least I would.

Last week, Jake gave you some samples
of skin creams to try. I wonder if they suit your type.

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Deutsch, Poetry

Heimat

Ich seh den Buchsbaum im Garten stehn.
Vater beschneidet den Efeu.
Aus der Ruhe bricht so ein Ton hervor,
der nicht verklingt.

Nachbarn trimmen die Hecken in Form.
Mutter streut Schneckenkorn.
Auf dem Feld hinterm Haus werden StraĂźen gebaut
für künftige Häuser.

In meinem Bett werden Gäste schlafen.
Ich kehre die StraĂźe und singe.
Aus dem Ton steigt so eine Ruhe empor
die nicht verklingt.

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