The father’s grave sinks deeply into many more graves
Covered stone crushing like cloud
A great weight tamping down and surprisingly out from under it a thin wing
Leaping to find you when you were still comely
Slender captivated by the swaying flower fanning itself
In the park one organ burning another, a kiss
The obstruction of the air must be learned
The wall tightly pressing the colorful painted shoulder
The falling evening color sets off a little shining leap
When your heart suddenly feels this moment
This city holds tightly your ancestral origin, your fated ending
Old age has no words but only the choked-back moan
Then to know the thinner betrayal is the more extreme
One kind of force driving the golden yellow eyespot to grow
Pushing open the concrete waves floating above the world only by an inch
The sea butterfly doesn’t dream of migrating far from Terror
Flying Tamala and the father flickering
Carrying bodies lightly pat to sleep the next generation of exiles
The ashes’ contents have no horizon
You perch at the address where upon waking you shrug off the weight of home
The leaves’ dark green lampshade moves closer
When you don’t fear to be caught by a thread of fragrance
You yourself are becoming the fragrance delivering back the letter the dead left
Bearing its stamp of ocean waves: Berlin