Tuesday, January 1, 2019

APRILIA ZANK



APRILIA ZANK

SNOW IN THE CITY

early morning
the first tyres
crash the virgin snow
like greedy grooms
on the first night
with dowerless brides
tiny birds
on frozen branches
pray to avian gods
for crumbs of survival
stray dogs watch pet dogs
from behind
dilapidated mattresses
pet dogs wait patiently
for owners to collect
dog shit
in plastic bags
specially provided
for this purpose –

for a wink of time
there is a flatter
of unseen wings
the echo of a chime
too distant to perceive
a numinous glow
through ragged clouds

but the snow ploughs
assault the city
steel bites on concrete
and in shop windows
spurious angels beckon
with deceptive wings






WONDERING WHAT TO PUT ON FOR THE END OF THE WORLD
12.12.2012

today as I was waiting
for the world to end
I was just wondering
what to put on,
what would fit best
for a decent appearance
we aren't, after all, bestowed
with such an event every day

in case of death by fire
I appreciated
my black and red sequin dress
to be most effective
with its host of
glistening stars
to take me closer to heaven

but if it were death by water
this would be totally out of place
much too tight
and colour mismatched
so I'd rather pick out
the long blue-green one
in silk – a cascade of layers
and veils with delicate pearls
perfectly fitting the billows
and willows which I'd see
for the very last time

but, no, not a good choice
for death by fulmination
which demands
a fully different attire
leather jacket maybe
high boots and a cap
to tuck in my hair, to avoid
a disorderly countenance
one should, after all,
pay attention to posture
on such rare occasions

and while wondering
choosing,
tossing my clothes away
– as I wouldn't need them any longer –
it occurred to me all of a sudden
that it may be something
so singular, so unimaginable
so never thought of before
that nothing on earth
would ever align with

and the only way to face the end
would be
naked
stripped
of layers
and
dreams






CAT IN THE FOG

like a shadow the cat
comes out of the foggy night
climbs up on roofs
crawls between chimneys
stops
goes on
peeps through
narrow roof windows
at murdered unfaithful wives
or else
at sleepless old men
looking at pictures
fading in family albums
it resumes its stroll
jumps down onto the pavement
sniffs
at the street girl’s
red stiletto boots
meows for petting
then slowly disappears
into the clotting fog

APRILIA ZANK


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