Horror, Tuesday Poem by Nicolas Born

The dormant
tram tracks rapidly paved over -
waiting for the olden days again
like a return to handwriting

Sudden rain, it's afternoon
just a little light gathered in faces
drizzly greys, the fields near
dark canals, trees low

Wet collars wet lips
Old man led by child with wet braids

Cement silos by the siding
Bird flocks banners drop
Saleswoman waves through glass wall

New suburbs flare up around six
I think of the remote exposed "island of the mind"

Tower cranes, bright concrete wasteland
A glance at the ascending world
that didn't even survive

Translated by Marty Hiatt