my gleiwitz
bora

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my gleiwitz

the long holidays beforehand & now / the neither-nor-
light at six a.m. // on the 1st of september a night-
shirt all tangled up / a nightmare jammed in the folds
of the cushion // from the cabinet a tumbling swift
or rather a jump / (a re-pre-metaphor) like the dusk under
the bedcover // & behind the window of the children’s room
the heimat of school full of empty idols and water
pistols / begins on the day of the attack on poland //

 

bora

on the european route to zagreb sawn out of
the region one afternoonlifted at night

ram shackled by bullet holes of thoughts & volleys
of the plastic sheet above the MOSOR & KOZJAK

and charcoal from three days ago all fallen litter
crumbled moonlightand the random

look-back lands (the airport’s reopened)
somewhere in the area mined by tv

 

Originals © Marcus Roloff
Translations © Jeremy Balius