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May 2013
A C H T U N G

  acht         neun         acht         sec­hs          vier          fünf           zwo
sechs          drei         eins          fünf        sieben          acht           null
   the         radio            spews             over          and          over         again
  void of      meaning.           or                 so                 they          want
   us to         think           as          the       concrete           wall
keeps       standing.        they         came           to        liberate us
which         they               did. of       thought of        speech
   of         word.             see             the        ashen         blocks sit
aren’t         they        pretty?           as         dark           red        blotches
stain          their           smooth       surfaces           like        lipstick on
wine       glasses.           an           old          fan          turns         slowly
    in a         dusty         room          just               south of
Leipzig.       men        dream of         hazy       Stalinist        façades
    as          she        brings a      cigarette to           her
rouged        lips. Belomorkanal.       the        rusted          olive        uniform
  pulls        tighter           as           she        draws in.        octaves
bellow        from           the       speakers. it is           time
    to         hear          from the     homeland.          how         sickles
gleam         for           the         Union          just like they
   did          for         Lenin. we         don’t           talk          about
   him         now         though.         sickles         don’t         gleam here
   like         they          ought to.          the          reels          revolve
unforgiving   to the cry           of a          winter’s
  night.         the           ruby          snow         glints            in         torchlight.
   the          night          goes on. it           has    to.
sieben        sechs          vier          zwo         neun           drei          sechs
  eins        sieben          null         sechs         acht           fünf          sieben

E N D   E
Written by
Anthony McKee  Belfast
(Belfast)   
653
 
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