An abandoned cycle lies flat
Wheel spinning
Waiting
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.