Out of the quaking grass Poem by Brigitte Oleschinski

outside the hospital windows they dance away like midges, a swarm of gleaming
baby cells

above the windy plain, through which the light runs with all its fingers,
whipping up empty parking lots and the nodding, swaying prairie
scalpels which beneath rolling cloudscapes rapidly scatter the transient
cluster

apart into nothing
more than whirring

pixels of eyes, wings, toes

Translated by Catherine Hales