a political poem

                    She cries, because she has swallowed
everything.
Barely able to speak, while fluency unabated
floods    pours    drips
from scheduled slots
rips             tears              gaps – I miss
you in German is literally you lack
to me.

Deckchairs line the hills.
Through crosshairs, two lines become a point.
These
            are stationed and those
            stationary. They lack to each other, but one
does not miss. The song is sub-bass
and the dance not optional.

A girl with a broken nose and fractured skull.
Eyes puffed into a purple domino.
Since then has not made a sound.
                                                           She is no master, not
even in carnival, and the mask is no disguise at all.

She weeps for the soldiers.