Driesch # 9: Hillary Keel PDF Drucken E-Mail
Das Poem "Forking Paths" in amerikanischer Originalfassung von Hillary Keel.

Hillary Keel

 

Forking Paths

 

“… and all that really is happening is happening to me. …” from The Garden of Forking Paths by Jorge Luis Borges

 

On a bed

in the dark

the train creaks

around a curve

my body sways

in my compartment

in the dark

in a train

along the river Elbe

along the ridge

along snowy woods –

the black river

sparkles

in the cold

as silence

rattles and hums

along the tracks.

*

The conductor

speaks

in an Austrian

vernacular

using expressions

like,

Ummadum

instead of

            rund herum

and notices

animal tracks

in the snow

as we stop

in a station

in the night.

*

I’m so

in my train-compartment

solitude

awake

in rhythmic darkness

passing by Saxon

towns, GDR warehouses

and Nazi buildings

staring empty

from black windows –

 

 

past midnight

we break

in the town

of Bad Schandau

along the river

Elbe

and I see

my reflection

flash

in the window –

then the yellow

train station light

and frozen platform

where two

people laugh.

*

Next is

Decín

            hlavni

            nádrazi –

I remember Berlin

our lipsticked laughs

and booted feet

tramping through

frozen Friedrichshain

and Kreuzberg, our

bodies in garb from

second hand shops,

we sat in candled cafés

discussing the cold,

sex, films, places

to go next,

 

the new main train station

where men and women wearing Palestinian scarves

swarmed in hordes, beating drums, bellowing

through the ultra-modern mall, up stairs and escalators –

the entire construction pulsating with their calls

to stop the killing in Gaza

 

but I’m

in the dark –

my never-ending

train ride

is all that is really happening.

The creak

the hum

the passing winter-scape –

the years, decades

and snow-covered

hours, a hotel. 

*

In Berlin

my daughter

wears a sparkling

brooch

on her coat

where some buttons

are missing

a scarf she knit

of heavy wool

like a girl

in a German film –

a beret

on her head of curls

like a girl

walking

through the streets

of Berlin

removed

from my lap

my touch

my breath.


 
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