Poetry

July 17, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

zoriah photo

 

By

Stephanie Staab

 

 

 

Townsfolk

 

 

We set out at first light.

The clothes chosen for this journey

alarms set.

 

We, who were born into this

We, who knew no other reality.

We, who mourned not a war but a failure.

Each time believing it could end

with the right calculations

the right barely perceptible shift in opinion.

 

Years from now, will they say about us:

 

No one spoke all day, then when night fell they set fire to the town.

Children shouted numbers into the air.

Water was a poison.

 

 

 

 

 

Lingua Franca

 

 

In the nursing home,

a stranger with bright hair and jewels

came over to me

and wordlessly placed her hand on my left cheek.

 

For a moment, we both stared

unsure.

 

Finally, I said

 

Hello

 

A man shouted from down the hallway:

She only speaks Spanish!  She doesn’t understand you!

 

 

 

 

 

Stephanie Staab

Stephanie Staab is an American poet and translator living in the Black Forest, Germany. She received her B.A. from Bard College in Creative Writing and her Master’s degree in Translation studies from the University of Edinburgh.

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1 Comment

  1. G July 17, at 15:51

    Congratulations from France, country of great poets, all dead now. The future of poetry is in Black Forest!

    Reply

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