We Stood On Viktoriastraꞵe

An abandoned cycle lies flat
Wheel spinning

Fat graffiti rests on guitar curves
Thoughts of bored teens
The word web in white

The house where you lived is now an art collective
Ghosts squeezing under your door
Your scullery a gallery
Your en-suite an office

Crimson brick café across the road
Coffee sippers gaze at the spinning wheel,
at the framed prints in the window,
unaware of our pilgrimage euphoria

Light song of metal screech
Lime green tram casts shadows
on the chequered path

Here is your home-town
we knew only from lips, letters, pixels

A leaf pulled from a hedge
on the dashboard it dries
in the air of our ancestors

From Wilkommen Zum Rattenfanger Theater (2019)

In Bielefeld my sister Syl and I stopped to take pictures of the place where we think our mother lived. Magical.

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