(c) 2009 Peter Manda
As the Kingfisher Stood
ich wahr at the Central grave
yard ein Oberst in der Reichsarmee
flicking his Merit,
younger than memories
of those whose graves lay still now
against bomb craters carpeted across the path
leaning toward the hangars
at the airport
sloping against the crest covered in
grass and turf now finely laid maintained
= in memory of “what they did” =
a bureaucrat lay, a higher member
administered – articulated staff
position just before
Flanders rose
in gestures, pointing toward
depth
he drosseld slurred words but stood
determined to teach
ideas the young man
already dismissed impossible
ignoring what he was seeing as his future
a future of lock and key – of chamber and chamfer
of periodic tables and calculi
grappling against the neighbors’ curves
lusting for the breath of dignity
that held – a moment’s distance
from death
... the gate yawned
as a jet glided to landing
in the distance
against Napoleonic fields that tore across
the crested hills against the Danube
and beckoned along a chestnut crested path
where third men also gathered clues
of pasts rendered
present and beckoning
to futures unanticipated yet
“There, do! the scientific research!,”
he murmured
I saw it while riding a Tiger
There! in El Alamein
they coursed The horizons of empty desert and
in a cheese sandwich
I realized
The true heart and feeling is
Not here
in your chest; its here …
Down by
the sole of the Liver,
where you feel the warmth
flowing as … I feared --
The beer he was holding.
-- the gusher; Would spill.
And thought. Froze in foam.
“Now that
“would be
"What a waste.”
And “What bad breath.”
And “What a loser.”
And “How can I extricate myself from this?”
And “Is this guy for real?”
And “What an utter joke?”
And …
I was sitting
at the river looking down
in the distant crest
The ancient ruins of palaces climbing out of the
vine-entangled Swamp-infested trees,
and wondering why
my
Stomach was
so
empty
As the Kingfisher stood.
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