Nein Zum neuen Polizeigesetz


 

A man I love took me to a protest—eine Protestaktion

It was almost like a carnival—how people gathered

We held hands through the streets of Düsseldorf

And dipped our fingers in the Rhine.

 

People who held posters, though we had none—

Strode through the corridors with painted grimaces and snarling teeth.

Old men, sitting by the red brick cafes,

Would leer at the Fräulein dressed for the hot sun.

 

Forests lined the wings of the streets

And bakeries stood, their customers watching us storm by

We clamored through the winding black cobblestones of the Altstadt

And I could see the Johannes Cathedral gazing down on me

 

My German is subpar, at best

I know my professors would expect more from me

I do not remember what the signs had said,

Or what the protesters yelled.

 

All I remember was the face of the man whom I was with

A man raised in the Ruhrpott

As his eyes blazed over the phrase, over and over again,

,,Nein zum neuen Polizeigesetz”

 

“No to the new Laws of the Police



 

Snow Dreams

 

 

Cascading—they fall upon the window-

   pane—And how I perceive that dreary sight!

    My gaze turned from that awful crescendo,

     And focused only on him on this night.

      And oh how they fall—like silent showers!

       Those snowflakes that whisk from the sky so blue.

        Risking frostbite, we leap from my tower

         By the Moon’s hoary light, we rendezvous.

          We’re fearless—we fall like the drops of snow;

           Freedom—a mistress I call his and mine.

           We run and fly! upon the ground below!

           Escaping into the frozen skyline.

          Horizons: I think of from my tower.

         Where we sit and we sigh—just he and I.

        And as we sit, I dream by the hour.

       From that cloud I wish on, ever so high.

      Against the window, I turn from the sky’s

     Flurries, and—watching all the snowflakes fall—

   Him sitting alongside me, and likewise

Dreaming to jump from my tower so tall.

 

 


Lethe


 

I don’t have a good memory—never did.

But sometimes, thoughts break in and drip through the cracks

Staining my eyes and drenching my ears

 

Like when I rode a roller coaster with you

And I was so afraid that I held my chest to keep from shaking

And wiped the sweat from my palms over my jeans with the black paint stains.

 

Or when we sat on a beach with the sunset beside us

And I was so angry that you kept taking photos of us because

I always remembered how I looked with my shirt off (the pictures weren’t so bad)

 

Or the first time we kissed, and how hilarious it was

Since you spent the night in my bed and only kissed me when we woke up

And you laughed and pushed me away after—I have really bad morning breath.

 

Or how I like to clean listening to old Madonna songs

Since I remember sliding around on the tile floor in the kitchen

When my mom used to mop. She loved Madonna songs. I do too.

 

And when I fell down the stairs at a train station

Because I was so, so drunk and could smell the gin under my fingernails

I’m glad that I laughed about it.

 

And though I reminisce with punctures in time and shreds in my past,

Thoughts burst through the pipes when I think of you.

 

I’ll pray to keep the gaps in my lousy mind when it is time

For you to say goodbye and for me to be left with just a memory.

 
 
 
 

Tyler clark

Tyler Clark is a student at Northern Arizona University and studies English Literature and German. He has recently moved back from Dortmund, Germany, where he has studied abroad for a year. He has a tattoo of Charlotte Brontë's signature and his favorite place in the world is standing on top of the Acropolis in Athens.
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