recovery room II

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oh if only I’d never been in the recovery room
stranded deaf rocking in the white

barge tied up by other barges
yes that’s the last harbour the damp

sleep-canal with black sisters standing
on the banks like judge and jury

threatening with stern finger-jabs: drips
and devils my love can you hear me

and you can hear nothing but this silence
in the sluicegates purging water that

nourishes you drop by drop from the tube –
while with swift blows under your bed

the sea steals you back into dreams of
stars and gags far from the recovery room

Originally published in German by © KOOKbooks, Berlin 2005