Sorrow Gondola

April and Silence

Spring lies forsaken.
 The velvet-dark ditch
 crawls by my side
 without reflections.

The only thing that shines
 are yellow flowers.

I am cradled in my shadow
 like a fiddle
 in its black case.

The only thing I want to say
 glimmers out of reach
 like the silver
 at the pawnbroker’s.

Insecurity’s Kingdom

The Under Secretary leans forward and draws an X
 and her earrings dangle like Damocles’sword.

As a spotted butterfly turns invisible in a field
 so the demon blends in with the spread-open newspaper.

A helmet worn by no one has taken power.
 The mother turtle flees, flying under water.

Nightbook Page

 I stepped ashore one May night
 into a chilly moonlight
 where grass and flowers were gray
 but their scent green.

I drifted up a slope
 in the colorblind dark
 while white stones
 signaled back to the moon.

A time span
 several minutes long
 fifty-eight years wide.

And behind me
 beyond the lead-shimmering waters
 was the other coast
 and those in command.

People with a future
 instead of faces.

Sorrow Gondola No. 2