Nora Bossong Poems

The stables down from the slope, they say
that a marten or a fox got the rabbit, no one
is sure, it's rare that anyone stays here
at night. The house too large
...

We live in a city without a river, there are
borders here made only of wind
or rainshowers. At night
...

And we went through my home town
almost silently, he said nothing, as though everything
had to remain unsaid, hot whisper
lingered on that summer day,
...

The game is called off. How can we
still believe in fairy tales? The branches
no longer shiver at night, no wild game
trundles through the woods and the thunderstorm
...

Dogs trotted through the streets, betimes
goats were conjured up, thrice
we looked for black cats, at least
...

I met two boys
under the arch of the bridge at night
who peed on the pillars and
said that they were seven
...