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Woman Babylon
I
your fathers were wood cutters
your mothers suffered under the ax
but the tree remained
in a forest that disappeared
throw open the fields
there you’ll see
all the animals leap into its shadow
even when the tree’s about to fall
II
Forsaken houses
skeleton of a city
night leveled to the ground
cloth warmed by blood
the men encircle her
tear at her last rags, Babylon
who slipped away from the hurtling stones
and since then says nothing
other women traded their dialect in the desert
one word from their mouths weighs more than any stone
stones are precious in the desert sand
the one who strikes out from the fold
turns into the she-wolf thirsts and starves
survives from one rivulet to the next
and shows the way to strangers
she’s immune to night
to the circle of stares
to the language that has left behind
ruins of a wall everywhere
looted strongholds
III
once I sought out a stateless city
to go under in
so no one could trace me
or comprehend my name
once I sought out a home for one night
bed to stand below the window
window going to the sky
to disappear in, seen by no one
IV
I don’t know where my legs go
when I swim
or where my head is
under my arm
tongue torn out
where it was, deaf
eyes look into the depths
at times transparent blue at times black
like time in childhood, thick
the runaway deer
loses its way in the city
wears its naked skin through the night
I don’t know if my voice can tell
when I stay when I go
in my one set of torn clothes
V
Motherland
I put a veil over your mirror
so you say nothing
before your image
and I can forget
what the mirror shows
Motherland
tie your shoes
with new strings
the road extends
yet is almost at an end
because you say nothing
whose shoes are older
we asked ourselves as children
Motherland
soon I’ll fall asleep in your ear
since I want to hear
what you say to yourself
when you say nothing
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