Eight Poems for the Wall

 

1.

At Checkpoint Charlie

customs huts

 

The death strip – scraped earth

:wildflowers.

 

Sepia postcard of the Brandenburg Gate.

Organized bus tour. A one-day visit.

 

2.

Windows are bricks instead of glass.

 

3.

A summer day, lapis-blue sky.

My husband buys a rucksack.

“These East Berliners look unhappy,” he says.

 

I remember, his leaving bruises.

 

The Mauer, the Wall, cuts through houses.

Ripped-up cobblestone.

 

4.

People are forbidden to wave

to family and friends.

 

5.

White crosses under an old elm.

 

A Strasse becomes a cul-de-sac:

from a steel viewing tower

one sees the street life.

Blank faces of passers-by.

 

6.

People break the Wall with hammers,

take home souvenirs. 1989.

 

7.

We are a family, divorced.

 

8.

A piece of Mauer still stands along the river,

one kilometre long. Dandelions, graffiti art.

 

Centre of the city under construction.